


you don't hold me (like you know i'm scared of the dark)

by lanwuxiann



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Rimming, Top Wang Yi Bo/Bottom Xiao Zhan | Sean, minor incident of harrassment (not by main characters), vague vague mention of 2/27
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanwuxiann/pseuds/lanwuxiann
Summary: Xiao Zhan slides to a halt in the snow, watching as Yibo beams affectionately at the man sitting across the table from him. He’s in waving distance, and Xiao Zhan – he wants to wave, he should, but something unnamed, something heavy in his stomach isn’t letting him. His fingers flex around the bags in his hands, but their weight has become negligible. Xiao Zhan’s tongue is dry in his mouth, his throat working helplessly as he sees Yibo throw his head back at something the man is saying, and shake his head in an almost tender manner.Or: Xiao Zhan sees Yibo with someone else, and it turns his whole world upside down.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan | Sean
Comments: 263
Kudos: 762





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to [sorrlen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrlen/pseuds/sorrlen) for beta-ing and crying over my first bjyx fic with me!  
> this may be a little painful at the start but i promise it will be!! happy!!  
> this fic is finished so i will be updating regularly, please enjoy!  
> i'll be updating tags as they are introduced so i don't spoil the story.
> 
> please note: in this first chapter there's a very very minor injury Xiao Zhan gets and it's mentioned very peripherally; if you want to skip it, you can stop at "secure enough in their relationship." and start again at "their bedroom is..."

Xiao Zhan’s on the way home when he sees him.

He’s balancing the weight of multiple shopping bags in his hands, the rough plastic of the bag handles pressing hard into the flesh of his palm. The mask on his face sits heavy, a sticky, uncomfortable necessity that traps sweat against his skin despite the turning November weather.

Xiao Zhan has to sidestep clumps of slush on the pavement – an unusual sight in Beijing, given that the city only experiences snow a few days a year at most. This snow is dragging into its second week, but the beautiful sight of drifting snowflakes reflecting sunlight makes clearing paths and roofs worthwhile. Everything seems to be glowing a little bit brighter, and even the fast setting winter afternoon sun cannot dampen his mood.

Yibo’s returning from his drama filming for a short break, choosing to fly back to their apartment despite only having the weekend off. He’s going to reach home later, closer to midnight from his late flight. The thought brings a veritable smile back onto Xiao Zhan’s face, and he grips at the bags tighter to hurry along. Once Xiao Zhan had received the messages informing him of Yibo’s return, he had quickly planned to make a hotpot meal. Nothing too fancy, and he’ll be using pre-packaged Hai Di Lao soup base instead of boiling the soup himself to reduce preparation time.

Still, he’d taken a special trip to the far neighbourhood shop instead of the close chain supermarket to pick up some special ingredients that Yibo likes. Yibo will surely appreciate some gong cai and marinated tripe. Xiao Zhan’s also going to make some soothing osmanthus jelly for Yibo’s easily irritated throat. He’s certain Yibo will love it, and it helps to take his mind off the useless feeling he has being trapped at home by the scandal and public sentiment.

Tonight will be just him and Yibo, enjoying a long-awaited and overdue meal.

Sometimes Xiao Zhan misses Yibo so much he can’t breathe. It’s to be expected, given Yibo’s extended filming schedules and all his flights that barely leave him time to rest. These past few months, Yibo hasn’t even been able to make his usual evening calls, citing changing scenes and script rehearsals. Xiao Zhan isn’t upset at all – at least, he tries not to be – despite the weak throb in his chest at every missed call. It’s common enough, and he’d rather Yibo gets the rest he needs so he doesn’t fall sick or overexert himself.

Recently, even Yibo’s texts have dwindled, and Xiao Zhan can only chalk it up to the physicality of the current shoot. Yibo’s latest drama is a modern day romance where he plays a gymnast, and he’s committed to doing as many of his own stunts as possible. He must be exhausted, and Xiao Zhan only wishes he could be there to make sure Yibo is eating healthily and taking care of himself.

One of the first ways Xiao Zhan realised Yibo saw him as more than a colleague or friend was how he was always fretting over how much Xiao Zhan ate on set. With no one around like that for Yibo, Xiao Zhan can only hope Yibo’s coworkers care to look out for him in Xiao Zhan’s place.

Despite how it takes Yibo away from him, Xiao Zhan knows the entertainment game they’re playing is plain and simple: popularity is fleeting, and while it lasts it’s best to embrace as many opportunities as possible. And this is Yibo’s dream. Xiao Zhan could never begrudge him for it.

All he wants is for Yibo to be happy and come home to him.

It’s this thought that has him humming, just as he rounds the corner that’ll lead him down the block to their apartment.

He doesn’t know why, but something makes him glance upwards from where he’s been staring at the ground to navigate his way through the piles of snow. He swerves past an old married couple with a little bow, and his gaze rests on a familiar set of shoulders through a Starbucks window across the street. Xiao Zhan’s gaze traces their familiar breadth, hugged by a slouchy black sweater, up to his neck and finally rests on his face.

It’s… Yibo?

Xiao Zhan pauses, automatically turning towards the crossing leading to the coffeeshop with bags in hand. A million questions flash through his head; didn’t Yibo say that his flight was coming in late? Why is he here, in a Starbucks on the other side of town away from their home?

Regardless, just drinking in the sight of Yibo has Xiao Zhan’s heart soaring in his chest. His whole body feels lighter, feels right with how Yibo has come back to him. Xiao Zhan can’t help the skip in his step as he crosses the road, nearing the shop. All these questions don’t matter – what matters is the gentle smile on Yibo’s face, the crease at the sides of his eyes as he grins up at the person opposite him-

Xiao Zhan slides to a halt in the snow, watching as Yibo beams affectionately at the man sitting across the table from him. He’s in waving distance, and Xiao Zhan – he wants to wave, he should, but something unnamed, something heavy in his stomach isn’t letting him. His fingers flex around the bags in his hands, but their weight has become negligible. Xiao Zhan’s tongue is dry in his mouth, his throat working helplessly as he sees Yibo throw his head back at something the man is saying, and shake his head in an almost tender manner.

The man isn’t facing Xiao Zhan. There’s no way Xiao Zhan can get a better look at his face unless he moves in closer, or enters the shop, but then Yibo would definitely see him. Xiao Zhan knows all of Yibo’s friends, but he can’t recognise the man from his back. The constricting feeling in his chest surges, making it hard to breathe when Yibo reaches across the table to offer out what looks like his open palm, in the same way he has always done when reaching for Xiao Zhan’s hand. Xiao Zhan watches as the man across from Yibo takes his hand, and smooths a thumb over Yibo’s knuckles.

Abruptly, hot tears rise in Xiao Zhan’s eyes, threatening to tip over and slide down his cheeks. He’s almost ashamed – he doesn’t know when he last cried unprompted like this, he tends to reserve those times for acting; Yibo always tells him that he’s cried enough for his whole life.

Xiao Zhan knows nothing about the situation, and he shouldn’t presume. He really shouldn’t. Yibo would never assume like that if the tables were turned, if their roles were reversed. And Xiao Zhan trusts Yibo so much. They’ve shared countless burdens and weathered every storm together. Something like this could be easily clarified by a WeChat message, or a simple call, to put Xiao Zhan’s rising anxiety to rest. That’s what’s sensible, and that’s what Xiao Zhan should do.

But sensible doesn’t seem to make sense, especially when Xiao Zhan’s boyfriend is looking at another man tenderly, holding his hand at a time and in a place he shouldn’t be. Xiao Zhan’s fingers make an aborted jump towards his pocket, where his phone rests like a brand burning against his thigh. He doesn’t know why he’s just watching like this through the window, eyes reddening and chest heaving with breaths that don’t seem to take.

He can just walk in and introduce himself. Yibo would pull up a chair for him, and he would meet Yibo’s friend. Or Xiao Zhan might walk in on exactly what the situation looks like. The bile that rises to his mouth at this nauseating thought is discouragement enough.

Xiao Zhan’s feet are frozen to the ground like the sheets of ice on the pavement, hands gripping tight to the bags holding Yibo’s dinner. It’s only when Yibo leans in further into the man’s space to whisper something into his ear that Xiao Zhan’s feet slide in his hurry to turn away, stomach lurching painfully. He keeps his head down, walking as fast as his legs can carry him across the road and back down the path towards their apartment.

It’s like someone has knocked the air out of him, someone taking a baseball bat to the foundations of everything he and Yibo have built steadily over the past two years. Yibo has never been anything but completely straightforward and honest with Xiao Zhan. At least, this is what Xiao Zhan had assumed till this very moment.

The thought that Yibo has been meeting someone else – on his schedule, the moments when he’d told Xiao Zhan he’d be back home late – makes Xiao Zhan want to scream.

Yibo has a lot of late nights and months away from Xiao Zhan. Xiao Zhan doesn’t get to see him for weeks during filming. They have to resort to flimsy video calls that are too blurry to even make out Yibo’s features. When Yibo is filming in far highlands or isolated places without a signal Xiao Zhan can barely contact him at all, leaving Xiao Zhan to worry at his phone all day till Yibo sends a reply.

If Yibo has – if he’s been seeing someone else during those long stretches while Xiao Zhan waits obediently for him at home, attempting to distract himself from Yibo’s absence, Xiao Zhan doesn’t know what to do. His body can’t stop shuddering, his fingers trembling as he presses his fingernails hard against the flesh of his palm. He wants to throw up, he wants to sink to the ground and cry, but as in all things Xiao Zhan continues moving, bracing himself against the heavy gales.

Xiao Zhan’s eyes sting with how he’s forced them open, facing the chilly winds, so that his tears don’t fall. He can’t even think, can’t even begin to fathom what he’s just seen.

There’s only one thing that keeps taunting him, keeps returning to the forefront of his mind despite how Xiao Zhan tries to push it back and bury it: Yibo surely loves the man Xiao Zhan saw him with.

He should know, because Yibo’s only ever smiled at him like that.

==

Their apartment that has been Xiao Zhan’s warm solace now feels like a cold hearth.

Xiao Zhan’s hands shake as he lowers the bags onto the counter, only to let himself sag against it. A stifled cry manages to leave his mouth despite how tightly Xiao Zhan has pressed his lips together. Tears finally escape him, running quick and hot down his cheeks. Xiao Zhan lifts a hand to wipe them away raggedly, the fabric of his winter coat harsh against the sensitive skin of his eyelids and cheeks.

They are sure to pink, and redden under his careless scrubbing. It is only the thought that Yibo might later recognise the signs of him crying that has him grasping at the kitchen counter by the sink. He cups his hands together to gather water into his palms, splashing the cold droplets over his face to hopefully quell the swelling.

Xiao Zhan tries to hush the voices in his head as he begins methodically unpacking the ingredients that can’t be left out into the fridge. The flat is so quiet, and so harsh. It doesn’t distract from how his heart feels like it’s being hammered to pieces in his chest.

Preparing dinner like nothing is wrong is not only difficult – it is excruciating.

He goes through the motions, bringing the stock to a boil and cutting the peppers. He lets the konnyaku jelly bloom in water and rinses the osmanthus petals. He makes a marinade for the meat and leaves it in a warm water bath in a ziplock bag. He slices the gong cai in swift strokes, and attempts to put the pieces together in his head before he thinks any further condemning thoughts.

Xiao Zhan goes in the order of things he knows, and things he does not.

The first of them is this: Xiao Zhan loves Wang Yibo.

This is a simple fact, and an undeniable truth.

It has been this since Xiao Zhan realised the boy next to him was a young man, truthful to a fault and stubbornly hardworking. Like the rest of the country, Xiao Zhan couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with him every day of filming even before he knew what the aching feeling in his chest was.

Even more than that, Wang Yibo did not have a reason to stay with him through Xiao Zhan’s tumultuous, rocky scandal. Xiao Zhan cannot count the number of times he had left the door open, or turned away from Yibo in their bed, convinced it was the last time he would see him. That come sunrise, Yibo would grow tired of the baggage Xiao Zhan carries, and step out the door.

And every morning, Xiao Zhan would wake to a closed door, with Yibo’s arm around his waist. Xiao Zhan has let himself believe since then, grow comfortable in the thought that Yibo doesn’t want to leave. That Yibo meant his promise to stay. Xiao Zhan cannot begrudge him if he has found someone less tiresome and easier to be with. He feels silly for letting himself grow too comfortable, for thinking Yibo would always stay with him.

The next he knows is this: Wang Yibo is at the top of the world, and Xiao Zhan cannot be by his side.

This is a simple acknowledgement of where they currently stand. A tumble from grace is expected in the industry, but Xiao Zhan’s is bitter to swallow for how quickly it had happened and for how far he has fallen. Wishing he could be at Yibo’s award ceremonies or accompanying him to events is dwelling on the impossible. Perhaps Yibo looks at him and sees a partner who can no longer provide the support he needs. The feeling makes a wave of shame fill Xiao Zhan from head to toe. He has since tried to make peace with how his career has turned out, but it is still painful to not be able to provide for Yibo.

Now, for the thing he does not know: Whether Wang Yibo still loves Xiao Zhan.

It is easy to fall into sweet, fleeting love when you are young. Xiao Zhan had cautioned Yibo against this the first time Yibo had gotten too close, too far into Xiao Zhan’s space to excuse as playfulness, and his gaze had dropped to Xiao Zhan’s lips. Xiao Zhan had twisted out of Yibo’s grip turned slack, and stammered the words out to Yibo’s disappointed face.

He had done this time and time again, shutting down any moves Yibo’d made if they threatened to risk the shimmering, incandescent thing hovering between them. Yet, Yibo had persisted, angry that Xiao Zhan was unconvinced of how much he felt for him and determined to show him the truth.

“You’re everything I want, Zhan-ge,” Yibo had whispered into his ear, Xiao Zhan caught in his arms by his tight hold. “I love you.”

But things can change.

Xiao Zhan should know. His fans had turned on him in the drop of a hat. Yibo is beautiful, a star in every right, successful in every arena. Perhaps someone else has caught his eye, has become to Yibo what Xiao Zhan once was. After all, Xiao Zhan knows how easy it is to fall for Yibo.

Xiao Zhan recognises all this, but why then is it so hard to swallow?

His pride rumbles in his chest. Has he been unsatisfying to Yibo in any way? They haven’t really been having sex as of late the last few times Yibo made it home; Yibo usually too tired to do anything but sleep and Xiao Zhan just content to be held in his arms. Perhaps that had been a mistake. Maybe Yibo met someone who’s more proactive in bed, a little stronger, a little younger. Xiao Zhan is almost thirty, and Yibo is in his early twenties. Maybe Xiao Zhan’s not adventurous or beautiful enough for him anymore.

If he is being honest with himself, Xiao Zhan knows the way Yibo looks at him has changed. About a few months ago, Yibo had begun to look at Xiao Zhan with something else, something more serious in his gaze. Xiao Zhan couldn’t name it then, chalking it up to exhaustion, but now it looks a lot more like maybe Yibo was trying to tell Xiao Zhan, what, that he was getting tired of him? That he’d found someone younger and hotter? That had been the time their texts and calls had dwindled too, and Xiao Zhan had foolishly thought maybe Yibo had become secure enough in their relationship.

He looks down then, and is met with a drop of blood running down his finger. It trickles onto the chopping board, turning the white muddy with maroon.

Breathing deep, Xiao Zhan turns to wash the wound after setting the gong cai aside. There isn’t any pain, the cut as small as a simple papercut. Still, he stares at his finger a little longer before leaving the kitchen and heading to their room.

Their bedroom is a beautiful, cosy room. Memorabilia and precious trinkets from filming crews and their families both line the walls, and printed photos of their dates and anniversary dinners hang pinned to corkboards along with Xiao Zhan’s doodles. Xiao Zhan can’t bring himself to look at the many polaroids of himself with Yibo, wrapped in a tight embrace, lying on his shoulder, kissing his cheek. All of these memories seem brittle now, easily swept away by the wind.

Xiao Zhan fumbles with the plaster box on the top of the dresser, retrieving a plaster that he wraps gingerly around his sore finger. A clumsy sweep of his hand has him sending a sheath of recent bills onto the floor, and Xiao Zhan stoops down, only to see something that makes his heart still.

An unopened bill sits at the very bottom of the paper pile, obviously filed out of order. With shaking hands, Xiao Zhan opens the envelope, and unfolds the bill.

Addressed to Wang Yibo, billed to his credit card, is a slew of top-tier hotel room bookings. These are expensive king suite rooms, all booked over a space of a few months for a night at a time. He and Yibo haven’t even been able to book such a room for themselves in the two years they’ve been together, and Yibo is readily spending so much on someone else.

Images flash through Xiao Zhan’s head, unbidden, of Yibo with someone else, with the man from earlier – kissing him, touching him, fucking him – and Xiao Zhan almost staggers backwards. The pain in his chest spreads like wildfire, threatening to consume his whole body.

Xiao Zhan reads the details over a few times, scanning the hotel names and dates before folding the bill and sliding it back into the envelope with a calmness that does not betray the roiling sea within him. He stacks the papers back on the dresser, and walks back to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.

Xiao Zhan knows what he must do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you like this fic, please feel free to scream at me @lanwuxiann on [tumblr](https://lanwuxiann.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/lanwuxiann) and subscribe to get updates.
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! <3


	2. Chapter 2

Never has the sound of keys turning in the lock made Xiao Zhan feel like his heart is dropping to his stomach.

Still, he maintains his usual spot by the dining table next to the open kitchen, adjusting the hotpot stove where the soup is starting to boil and stirring its contents. The dishes are all spread neatly by the hotpot, and the osmanthus jelly is setting in the fridge.

It’s picture perfect. Xiao Zhan thinks he might hurl.

The door opens, and there Yibo is, shouldering his way in with a weekend duffel bag. He looks – he looks tired, cap pulled low over his head and mask high on his nose. He hasn’t changed from the afternoon, still in the black sweater.

Xiao Zhan wants to run to him, cling to him, shake him, anything. He wants Yibo to tell him the truth, every truth that Yibo has been hiding from him. Xiao Zhan would take him back; he would do anything for Yibo to remain by his side. He wants Yibo to say it was all a mistake, that he still loves Xiao Zhan despite his every betrayal.

He does none of those things.

Xiao Zhan freezes by the table, barely remembering to smile as Yibo kicks his sneakers off and turns to face him. Yibo lets his bag drop to the floor, pulling off his mask and cap in one swift move and tossing them on the nearby side table.

“You’re home,” Xiao Zhan says, and he can scarcely recognise his own voice. It comes out a little shaky, but Yibo must be too tired to register how strange Xiao Zhan is acting. How Xiao Zhan holds the ladle like a weapon between them.

“I’m home, baobei,” Yibo replies, raising his head and affixing Xiao Zhan with a small, beautiful smile.

Xiao Zhan stops the sob escaping from his mouth as Yibo drapes his long arms around Xiao Zhan’s shoulders, resting his head on Xiao Zhan’s shoulder. He smells like a cologne Xiao Zhan has never smelled before. What a fool Xiao Zhan has been all this while.

“Oh my god,” Yibo groans, muffling contented sounds into Xiao Zhan’s neck. “I’ve missed you so much, Zhan-ge. And you’ve cooked such an amazing meal, I’m so undeserving.”

_He doesn’t mean any of this. He’s been fucking around behind your back for so long._

Xiao Zhan clears his throat, blinking back the tears that have gathered in his eyes. He lowers his head to breathe Yibo in, stroking at the hair meeting the nape of his neck.

Yibo’s due for a haircut. Xiao Zhan had penciled it in at the start of the week, thinking they might be able to try out a new salon run by Xiao Zhan’s college friend together. All the planning, all the scheduling, all the ways they have built their lives to intertwine are beginning to come crashing down, falling like pieces of broken glass.

Xiao Zhan feels the fight leaving his body, replaced by a weariness. If Yibo had given up so quickly – the very same Yibo who practices till everyone leaves the studio, the Yibo who’s covered in scrapes and bruises from trying so much – then Xiao Zhan is clinging to unravelling threads. He doesn’t want to be there when they snap.

But he can’t bear to let go.

He nudges at Yibo gently to sit down, and Yibo gives a reluctant sound before dropping in the seat opposite Xiao Zhan. He surveys the spread on the table with an excited gleam in his eyes despite the obvious exhaustion in his shoulders.

“Baobei, thank you so much,” Yibo says, picking up his chopsticks and sniffing at the hotpot steam exaggeratedly.

Antics like this usually send Xiao Zhan into giggles, and Xiao Zhan used to think it was because Yibo thrived off making Xiao Zhan happy. That evidently isn’t the case anymore, so why is Yibo still maintaining like everything is fine? Looking at Xiao Zhan with the same soft gaze that he used to when their relationship first began? That in itself feels wicked and cruel.

Xiao Zhan attempts a smile, making sure his eyes crinkle into half-moons like how Yibo likes.

Yibo points his chopsticks at Xiao Zhan, grinning. He’s evidently satisfied with what he sees, giving Xiao Zhan a blatant onceover though all Xiao Zhan is wearing is an old loungewear set. “I’ll give you your big welcome home kiss later. Let’s eat first? I’m really starving; I slept through dinner service on the plane.”

He eagerly grabs a few slices of meat, dropping them in the pot. There are a few pimples growing on his forehead, and a fresh, thin scar on his neck. Xiao Zhan clenches his fists to keep them from shaking, then leans across his seat to kiss Yibo on the brow.

“Eat well, Yibo,” Xiao Zhan says, brushing Yibo’s hair back slowly, feeling the strands slide between his fingers.

Yibo grins at him through a mouthful of gong cai and rice. “I’m so lucky that my boyfriend takes care of me like this.”

Xiao Zhan’s heart seizes a little in his chest before it resumes its elevated stutter. _How many people has Yibo said this line to, accompanied by that smile?_ Xiao Zhan once thought he was the only one Yibo spoke affectionately to, confident in being the only one holding Yibo’s heart.

Heartbreak and something like contempt threaten to turn Xiao Zhan’s mood vicious. Is Yibo laughing at him? Being the blind one, strung along by pretty words and promises, believing wholly in Yibo’s commitment to him? Is he just the willing and pliant body to return to after every shoot, something Yibo can boast about to other flings? He can’t believe he’s judged Yibo so poorly.

“It’s nothing,” Xiao Zhan replies after a quiet beat, adding noodles to the pot. Steam rises in a slow curl to the ceiling as Yibo continues wolfing down the food, pausing in between to eye him hesitantly now and then.

Xiao Zhan knows he should at least be eating if he wants to pretend like everything is fine. But looking down at his bowl, filled with cabbage and beef, he feels like he wants to throw up. The saturated colours of the spread in front of him swirl in his head, making him dizzy. The room is too hot, then too cold, like their thermostat has gone awry. His body doesn’t seem to be adjusting to anything but the clench in his chest, accommodating the growing chasm between him and Yibo with painful ease. 

“Zhan-ge, are you alright?” Yibo asks, capturing Xiao Zhan’s darting gaze and holding it. He runs his thumb over Xiao Zhan’s knuckles, eyes sweet and earnest. “I’ve put all this meat in your bowl but you’ve barely been eating.”

Xiao Zhan withdraws his hand a little too quickly, wincing at the startled look in Yibo’s eyes.

“Ah, you know me, Yibo!” Xiao Zhan quips, his laugh pushing dangerously on fragile. He hurriedly moves towards the fridge, feeling Yibo’s gaze burning on his back. “I was just thinking about the surprise I have in the fridge!”

Xiao Zhan stills his trembling hands enough to pull open the fridge door and pull out the tray of osmanthus jelly. The jelly sits perfect in the little tray molds, shaped into flowers and hearts. Xiao Zhan bought the tray specially to make herbal fruit jelly for Yibo after learning about how prone his throat is to soreness. His own mother used to make cooling jelly for Xiao Zhan during the summer, and continues to make them for both him and Yibo when they head back to Chongqing for the new year.

Yibo loves these jellies. He carries them on flights and to shoots in a little lunchbox that Xiao Zhan packs, along with a thermos of Xiao Zhan’s warm green tea. He’s always so happy, his face flushed with delight when Xiao Zhan takes the time out of his day to make them for him.

Xiao Zhan can’t imagine never making them for him again.

He turns around with a stretched smile and closes the fridge door with an elbow, hoping his blurry vision will fade. Yibo is unusually still, stiffly upright in his chair as Xiao Zhan makes his way back to the dining table.

He isn’t looking at Yibo. He can’t.

Xiao Zhan keeps his eyes on the wobbly, bendy tray in his hands as he steps towards Yibo. The bright green plastic. The flecks of osmanthus petals in the gelatin. Anything else but him.

Every step feels like a step in quicksand, pulling and ensnaring his feet. It is a toil to reach the dining table where they once shared every happy memory – sleepy, playful breakfasts and tender, fond dinners.

He takes a breath as he lowers the tray, and attempts to smile.

“See, Yibo, I made your favourite-”

Xiao Zhan cuts off, horrified as his tears begin to spill over, running down his cheeks to splatter on the tabletop.

He can’t process what’s happening. Xiao Zhan’s body is usually under his complete control; he can hide his feelings and reactions as easy as breathing. But now, it’s like a dam has broken. His tears flood down his cheeks unceasingly, trailing down his neck and chin. No matter how he attempts to stop them, they keep coming.

Xiao Zhan’s heart stills in his chest as he jerks away from the table, trying to hide his expression. A complete silence descends upon the dining room, broken only by the bubbling of the soup.

He’s so angry at himself. It had all been going so well. The dinner, everything. Yibo hadn’t the faintest clue. They could have had one more happy night together. He can only imagine what’s going through Yibo’s mind.

Xiao Zhan brings his arms up to dab his tears away on his sleeves, trying to put his usual smile back on his face.

“Ah, I’m so silly,” he laughs wetly, attempting to inject some humour into his voice, but it falls flat. Xiao Zhan turns back to the table where Yibo has since risen with a harsh scrape of chair legs against the floor, reaching over to turn the stove off. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, don’t mind me, Yibo-”

A large hand cradles his face as Yibo steps towards him, gently taking the jelly tray from Xiao Zhan’s hands with the other. He places the tray on the table, then wraps an arm around Xiao Zhan’s waist to pull him closer. Xiao Zhan is held tightly against Yibo’s chest as Yibo stares up at him, worry in his eyes.

“Baobei,” Yibo says, and his voice is full of concern. His thumb lightly wipes at the bottom of Xiao Zhan’s eye, removing the tears gathered in his lower lashes. Xiao Zhan shudders at Yibo’s touch, soft and intimate. He doesn’t know whether to push Yibo away or hold him closer for the last time. “You haven’t been okay the whole evening. What’s wrong? Tell me so I can help you. Please.”

Xiao Zhan’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek as he attempts to make his mouth work. He should have known Yibo can see through him like glass. He’d thought maybe Yibo had forgotten all his tells, had forgotten the space Xiao Zhan occupied after replacing it with someone else.

“I hate seeing you cry,” Yibo continues, shifting so Xiao Zhan is cradled properly against him, regardless of the snot and tears smeared all over his face. He positions Xiao Zhan so his head tucks into Yibo’s neck and Xiao Zhan catches a whiff of that same foreign cologne.

This makes Xiao Zhan sob a little harder, shaking his head as he pulls away from Yibo, pushing against his chest with wild, scrabbling hands. Xiao Zhan takes a few steps away from Yibo, falling back into his seat at the table. He must look a complete sight, his chest heaving uncontrollably from his crying.

“What’s wrong, baobei, please-” Yibo says, his voice frantic as Xiao Zhan buries his head in his hands. He sounds sincerely panicked, his fingers restless and agitated against his thighs. He looks unhappy to not be touching Xiao Zhan, but he respects Xiao Zhan’s obvious distancing from him, crouching beside Xiao Zhan’s chair. “You’re scaring me, Zhan-ge. Please. Tell me what I can do.”

It’s amazing how Yibo’s pleas, how his lies, sound so sincere. He sounds like he really cares about Xiao Zhan.

Xiao Zhan lowers his hands to meet Yibo’s imploring gaze, his eyes smarting. Yibo is kneeling next to Xiao Zhan’s knees, agonised fear all over his face. He really is such a good actor.

Xiao Zhan takes a few deep, settling breaths that rattle his chest, letting Yibo tentatively take hold of his hands where they rest in his lap. The warmth of his hands make Xiao Zhan want to grasp them tight, to pretend today never existed. He never saw Yibo in Starbucks, and he never found those incriminating bills. If he lies, if he says he’s just overwhelmed, Yibo will believe him and they can continue just as they are.

But so much of Xiao Zhan’s life has already become a lie. He can’t allow Yibo and him to become one too. Yibo knows him too well, and he surely will figure it out eventually. Xiao Zhan can’t stomach the thought that Yibo will leave after this weekend for another’s arms. He would never forgive himself if he let Yibo walk away from him with full knowledge that Yibo had fallen out of love with him, and he didn’t have the courage to ask Yibo why. Why Yibo has so readily given up on them.

When he can trust himself to speak without breaking down again, Xiao Zhan studies Yibo’s face past the blur from his tears.

He looks confused – pained, maybe. But not guilty in the slightest. That’s what hurts the most.

Xiao Zhan’s whole being throbs with a dull ache, the pain radiating from each limb unceasingly.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan whispers, taking another shuddering breath that wracks his body. He pulls his hands from Yibo’s grip. He can’t be touching Yibo now, or he’ll crumble. “Yibo, were you really on a late flight today? Did you really just land in Beijing?”

Yibo starts, flinching a little. It is confirmation enough for Xiao Zhan, who knows Yibo so thoroughly.

“…No, I reached earlier in the afternoon,” Yibo admits, wincing, and Xiao Zhan lets a humourless laugh escape him.

Yibo doesn’t even try to deny it. He looks caught out, but not aggrieved or even scared that Xiao Zhan might leave him. Is this the limit of the feelings Yibo has for him?

“I know, Yibo,” Xiao Zhan says hoarsely, fighting to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I know about the hotel rooms. I know everything.”

Yibo’s head snaps up at that, brow knitting together as he attempts to find the words. Xiao Zhan feels a few more exhausted tears run down his cheeks and he wipes them away with his sleeves.

“Okay, okay, Zhan-ge,” Yibo says, firmly reaching for and clutching at Xiao Zhan’s hands resting his lap. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but I didn’t- I didn’t think you would react like this-”

“So now you’re blaming me?” Xiao Zhan tears his hands from Yibo’s hold, rising abruptly to his feet with a skid of his chair. His voice rises, words choking their way from his chest. “Why would you keep something like this from me? Why would you even think this was okay? How- how did you think I would have reacted?”

Yibo looks speechless, mouth opening and closing as he gapes at Xiao Zhan where Xiao Zhan’s backing away from him to hit the kitchen counter. It’s the first time since they met that they aren’t caught in each other’s gravity; Xiao Zhan imploding in on himself like a dying star and Yibo impaled on the fractured debris.

 _Good_ , Xiao Zhan thinks viciously, the pain twisting in his abdomen like a knife.

“I didn’t- Zhan-ge- I didn’t know you would-” Yibo holds out his hands in front of him warily, despair painted all over his face. Xiao Zhan shakes his head angrily, mouth tight with anger. Yibo starts stammering, a nervous tic that Yibo carries when stressed or anxious. “I didn’t know it was such a horrible thing for you-”

“How could you say that?” Xiao Zhan gasps out, feeling a sharp pain tighten around his heart and squeeze at Yibo’s admission. So Yibo _was_ playing with him, all this time? Every single moment Xiao Zhan had been entirely serious had been nothing but mere games to Yibo. Every promise, every touch ground into dust. “Of course it is, Yibo! How could you even think we could continue like this?”

Yibo’s face pales, turning ashen under the warm lights of the kitchen. For the first time this evening, he stops reaching towards Xiao Zhan, his hands falling limply to his sides.

Xiao Zhan’s kissed those fingers, those knuckles. He’s had them in every way; pushing inside him, cradling his face, soothing him to sleep, and interlocked with his own. He’s so furious with everything; Yibo, the stupid jellies, and most of all, himself. How could he not have seen this coming? The freight train has been steamrolling towards him all this time and Xiao Zhan’s just been playing on the tracks.

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo’s eyes are turning watery too, and it just isn’t fair. He doesn’t get to cry too, not like this. Not when he’s the one who’s ripping Xiao Zhan’s heart out and stomping all over the tatters. “I thought- I thought-”

“You didn’t think,” Xiao Zhan says, ragged and hollow. “Yibo, no. Whatever we are, whatever this is, we need to _stop_.”

“So what is, what are we, are you breaking up with me? Just like that?” Yibo sounds almost incredulous, almost livid with how his eyes flash at Xiao Zhan. His chest is heaving, his shoulders drawn tight. “Zhan-ge, I don’t understand-”

“Then let me make it clear,” Xiao Zhan whispers, almost bent in half with the pain of it. He’s so tired. He and Yibo have barely had any major disagreements. They’ve always been in sync, on the same page and usually of the same mind. Decisions are negotiated and any possible disagreements are resolved before they can flare into a full fight, because they both always wanted to make this, make _them_ work. They’ve never fought before like this, all insult and simmering agony, with one foot already out of the door. “I don’t want this to be my life. I don’t think I want to see you again.”

Yibo looks as if Xiao Zhan’s just slapped him, blinking tears out of his eyes that slide down his cheeks. He opens his mouth, closes it, looks down at the table and all the food, then looks back up again to meet Xiao Zhan’s eyes.

A world of hurt sears through Yibo’s gaze.

“Was this a _goodbye_ dinner?” Yibo asks, no, demands, voice rising as he gestures hotly at the table. “This is how we end, Zhan-ge? Is that it?”

Xiao Zhan looks away resolutely, drawing his arms around himself in an ineffective attempt to hold tight to the warmth that’s escaped him from how Yibo is looking at him. It’s part anger, part incredulity, and all pain.

“You’re not going to say anything? To fight for us?” Yibo spits, fury in every word.

He has so much to say, accusatory and terrible, horrible words to hurl at Yibo. But somehow, they can barely crawl from his mouth, the air refusing to leave his lungs, his mouth refusing to form the shapes.

What is done is done. Xiao Zhan doesn’t want Yibo’s last memory of him to be one of anger. He tries to believe he’s made his peace with it. Maybe they were never destined to be together; their crossed red threads masquerading as a joined string.

It is Yibo who should explain, who should fight for what he has ruined. He owes Yibo nothing.

“There’s nothing left to fight for, Yibo.” Xiao Zhan looks down at his feet as he voices aloud the agonising words that have refused to depart from his mind since he caught a glimpse of Yibo taking someone else’s hand and placing his lips near someone else’s throat. It is a torment to not be looking at Yibo as he says this, to only hear his ragged breaths from across the room. 

“Zhan-ge, please, _I love you_ ,” Yibo begs, and the pleading notes in his voice drag down Xiao Zhan’s chest like someone’s taken a dull knife to it. “We can fix this, whatever it is, please.”

He wants to cling to Yibo; he wants to laugh in the face of Yibo’s ruin. How dare Yibo say this to him now, when his actions have proven otherwise? How can he still pretend like he doesn’t know how he has broken Xiao Zhan to tiny pieces, scattering him to the wind so he can never be whole again?

_If you really loved me, you would never have looked away._

His resounding silence is answer enough for Yibo, who lets out a disbelieving, angry breath. Xiao Zhan doesn’t understand. What does Yibo have to be angry about, other than being caught?

He looks at Xiao Zhan again, and shakes his head, scrubbing tears off his face with his sweater sleeves.

It’s a cold, long drawn process that follows, though it must only take a few minutes.

Yibo disappears into the bedroom, and there’s the sound of cupboards and drawers opening, and slamming shut. They echo easily to the kitchen, with how silent their apartment is.

Yibo is packing his things, in their room. He’s taking his clothes, his sweaters that Xiao Zhan likes to steal and huddle up in during cold days. He’s taking his favourite skateboard propped against the wall, the game console that he promised to teach Xiao Zhan how to play. He’s stripping the memories from their place, and throwing them into his duffel bag.

Xiao Zhan can hardly move, clinging to the kitchen counter like a lifeline. Tears run down his face slowly, broken by his hiccups. He wishes he had the strength to step over, to at least lean against the doorframe and watch Yibo pack. He doesn’t know what he thought he would feel, seeing Yibo walk out of his life. It doesn’t measure up to the all-consuming fire within him, destroying everything within its path.

A moment or twenty passes before Yibo steps out of their bedroom, striding towards the living room and kitchen area with a duffel bag over his shoulder, dragging a suitcase behind him. He pulls on his cap from their side table, positioning it low over his masked face. He doesn’t even turn to look at Xiao Zhan before reaching down to pull on his sneakers, one foot, then another.

“I’ll send a mover for the rest of my things tomorrow. Apologies for the imposition.” Yibo says smoothly, cold and as curt as he is to fans who grab at him, or strangers who presume to know anything about him at all.

Because that’s all Xiao Zhan is to him now. A stranger. They may meet at awards shows, or galas, but it will never be the same again. They’ll give each other cursory, perfunctory bows, and move on. Yibo will never call his name affectionately, or kiss him, or look at Xiao Zhan like he’s hung all the stars in Yibo’s night sky again.

Yibo will never be his again.

Xiao Zhan was once so sure that he would grow old with Yibo. Everything around them could change, people would come and go, but they would stay the same. But that’s not what’s happening.

In this reality, Yibo’s walking away from him.

He’s reaching efficiently for the door handle, ready to pull it open. That’s all Xiao Zhan will be – a blip on Yibo’s radar, another notch in his belt. With all the ease in how Yibo is moving on, Xiao Zhan knows the man he’s seeing is someone Yibo will be happy with. He must love that man so much that leaving Xiao Zhan is effortless.

Xiao Zhan stamps down the tears that threaten to fill his eyes again at the sight. He will not cry over a man who chose someone else. It wasn’t him who screwed up. Yibo had just woken up one day and decided to turn his back on Xiao Zhan. It was Yibo who had decided to walk out the door. He knows loving him is hard work, but Xiao Zhan didn’t know it had been a burden Yibo felt forced to carry.

Xiao Zhan made good on the promise to choose Yibo every single day. If Yibo chose something else, if he wanted something better, then it’s on him.

It’s just – Xiao Zhan thought there was no one better for Yibo than him.

Apparently, he was mistaken.

But Xiao Zhan doesn’t even know where Yibo’s going to go at this time of the night, where he might get a hotel room on such short notice. He can’t leave Yibo out in the cold, and he can’t just leave Yibo with nothing.

Xiao Zhan follows Yibo in abrupt, sudden steps that sound through the hall.

“Yibo-” His name tears from Xiao Zhan’s throat unexpectedly loud and rough, like it had been storing itself in his chest gaining weight and gravity. “Where- where are you going to stay?”

Yibo pauses, his fingers running down the door handle as they curl around it.

“I have a friend,” Yibo replies, calm and composed. “Don’t worry about me.”

Then he opens the door and steps through unflinchingly. It is cutting for how Yibo doesn’t even turn back and give Xiao Zhan, give them a final glance. Just a sharp nod and he is gone; the door and their two years together closing behind him with a firm thud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, thank you for your responses to this fic! it really makes me happy to see people like it.  
> see you soon for the next chapter! :)  
> if you like this fic, please feel free to scream at me @lanwuxiann on [tumblr](https://lanwuxiann.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/lanwuxiann). i'm always happy to make a new friend!
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone!! you probably realised that the chapter count has gone up by 1 to 7, and it's because of all your wonderful comments that have helped me think about what more i should add to this story, thank you so much 🥺❤

The next few days pass in a haze.

Xiao Zhan alternates between crying and sleeping, too weak to even think of reading any new scripts his manager sends over, or getting up to cook. He survives on takeout and sleeps on the couch, unable to return to their bedroom at all except to close the door and gather blankets for warmth. The only way he can sleep is by wrapping himself in them and breathing in the remnants of Yibo’s scent.

He eats his jellies by himself, and tries not to feel hollow. They’ve all turned soft and sticky.

Yibo’s movers had come in on the first day as promised, efficiently clearing out the shelves and closets of Yibo’s things.

Xiao Zhan had stood by in a thick mask and ratty sweats, wordlessly pointing out where Yibo’s things were. He didn’t mention the pictures, or the trinkets on the dresser. All the presents Yibo gave him that Xiao Zhan can’t bear to throw away. Every time he picks one up it’s all he can do to not cling on to it. He drapes dark fabric over the walls, covering all the polaroids so he doesn’t see how Yibo used to look at him in tiny, endless frames that swallow his thoughts.

What makes it worse is that he and Yibo used to share closets.

Yibo’s mindlessly taken some of Xiao Zhan’s clothes, and Xiao Zhan still has Yibo’s big, billowy shirts folded neatly in his. His soft cardigan is missing, along with a pair of tight black jeans they used to share for performances. Pairs of Yibo’s socks and underwear lie in the very back of the drawer, and when Xiao Zhan pulls them out it’s all he can do to stay upright and not crumple in on himself.

He clings to his phone, clutching to a fragment of hope that Yibo might text, or call. Might apologise, might lay the truth bare at Xiao Zhan’s feet. Might say he made a terrible mistake.

Might come home to him.

But Yibo does none of those things, not one of his notifications popping up on Xiao Zhan’s phone.

Xiao Zhan opens their chat window every hour, afraid to find himself blocked or deleted. But he still has Yibo on his WeChat list, and though he stays on WeChat endlessly to see if Yibo will come online and message him, Yibo doesn’t say a word.

He helplessly scrolls through their old messages, and seeing the last “I love you, I’ll see you soon” message that Yibo sent to him makes his stomach clench painfully. He doesn’t look through their gallery either. Seeing happy pictures of them feels unbearable.

He’s so tempted to say something, anything to Yibo.

He types countless messages that devolve into an intelligible mess of sentences. _I miss you so much I can’t breathe. How could you let me down? I thought what we had going was good. I still love you._ He deletes them all and lets his phone run out of battery, so he’ll stop hurting himself with it.

He sits and wonders why. What had he done, or not done, that was so wholly insufficient? That made him so dissatisfactory in Yibo’s eyes? Maybe he had not done enough for Yibo. He had become complacent, believing Yibo’s love would always be his. The myriad of questions that come flooding into his head refuse to abate, crashing into him like a heavy wave.

Yibo hadn’t even come clean. If he was truly unhappy with the way things were between them, why did he have to go to someone else? Why didn’t he discuss it with Xiao Zhan? Is it because he thought Xiao Zhan was already going through such a difficult time? Surely, surely he must have known that Xiao Zhan would have prioritised their relationship over anything.

Maybe it really was him. Maybe he hadn’t given Yibo the confidence to feel like he should stay. But Yibo didn’t have to leave either.

The lack of closure leaves Xiao Zhan feeling like he’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, not yet about to fall but unable to climb back to safety either.

By day two, the apartment starts to feel claustrophobic, closing in on Xiao Zhan and making his head spin with how desperately lonely and betrayed he feels.

He hasn’t been checking Weibo at all, cowardly, gutless fear rising at the thought that he might find pictures of Yibo with that man. Happy, and completely unaffected. Smiling up at him like how Yibo used to smile at Xiao Zhan.

Yibo may have played his role very well when he was found out, but now that he’s with the person he really loves, he’s probably back on his feet. Likely, he’s a complete contrast from the wreck Xiao Zhan is currently. He thinks of calling a therapist but he can’t bring himself to dial any numbers. He can’t imagine what it might mean to spill all his secrets to a stranger, any stranger who can be bought for the right price.

The thought of telling anyone who doesn’t know Yibo about what Yibo’s done to him turns his stomach. He doesn’t want them to get the wrong impression. He meant what he said all those interviews ago. Yibo is a good person, he knows it. He doesn’t want Yibo’s light to be diminished by what he did to Xiao Zhan, no matter how painful. It is still a private matter between them, after all.

So, Xiao Zhan packs a bag of clothes and finds himself outside on Zhuocheng’s doorstep. He needs to be with someone who he can trust who also knows Yibo, and won’t be so hasty as to pass judgement on him. It helps that Zhuocheng is kind and understanding, slow to assess and anger.

Zhuocheng welcomes him with open arms, concerned and fretting over Xiao Zhan’s dark eyebags and reddened eyes. He doesn’t ask Xiao Zhan about what happened, letting Xiao Zhan eat part of the steaming dinner he’s made while setting up the spare bedroom he has. He asks Xiao Zhan if he can call Xuan Lu, and then Xuan Lu comes over, and they both stare at him over the dining table with large, worried eyes as Xiao Zhan attempts to choke down some banmian.

It’s only when he retches out whatever little he’s eaten into Zhuocheng’s toilet that Xuan Lu grasps his arm tightly and brings him to the couch where she sits him down to talk. She and Zhuocheng sit on the opposite couch, each holding one of Xiao Zhan’s hands. Xiao Zhan is close to tears at the warmth he feels looking at them.

He tells them, every little detail. About how Yibo had been looking at him different, and either avoiding or shutting off his calls. How he’d seen Yibo through the glass of the coffeeshop, seen all his hotel room bills, and how Yibo had come back home like he hadn’t lied to Xiao Zhan’s face, like nothing was wrong even though everything was. And then about how Yibo had left. How Yibo had walked out without even looking back. Like leaving Xiao Zhan was the easiest thing he had ever done.

Xiao Zhan has to breathe through his shudders as he speaks, has to pause to wipe away his tears when he recalls Yibo’s cold dismissal. How Yibo had probably gone straight to the man he was with to stay the night. He clutches tight to Zhuocheng and Xuan Lu’s hands, grateful that they both know how much Yibo means to him.

Yibo was, is, the best thing that has ever happened to him. More than his music career, or his drama roles. Yibo was his home.

“Zhan-zhan, I’m so sorry.” Xuan Lu’s voice is tight as she pats his cheek with her free hand, worrying at his hair. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”

“Yeah,” Zhuocheng’s grip on his hand tightens. “How can Yibo do such a thing? He never struck me as someone who would- who-” His face twists in confusion as he shakes his head like it might allow things to settle into focus. “Yibo always seemed to love you very much-”

He cuts off quickly as Xuan Lu gives him a sharp nudge and a pointed look. They exchange unspoken words, blinking and narrowing their eyes at each other before Zhuocheng mumbles something about making a call and disappears into his room.

“Take all the time you need, Zhan-Zhan,” Xuan Lu says, drawing him into a warm hug. Her face is drawn, as severe and thoughtful as he’s ever seen her. “We’re here for you.”

Xiao Zhan falls asleep in her arms, exhaustion swallowing him into a dark abyss.

==

It is probably unhealthy for him to be returning to work so quickly when he can’t even stop himself from tearing up at the mere thought of Yibo, but the world goes on. Remaining obligations to directors, brands, and events all continue whether Xiao Zhan is ready for them or not. Everyone is on hold for him, and it’s not in Xiao Zhan’s nature to keep them waiting.

A week after his breakup, he’s back on his feet.

He pushes it all down, masking it with his well-worn smile. He wears his suits like armour, laces his shoes a little too tight so they squeeze hard around his ankles like chains. It keeps him awake, aware, and most importantly, focused on something that isn’t the heartbreak that keeps him bleeding on the inside. If his eyes are a little too watery, too red for his normal, then that’s another matter.

He swaps out his phone for a new one, changing his number so he can’t be distracted. Evidently Yibo has moved on, and so should he. He can’t keep clinging to false hope, or think that Yibo will come running back. Xiao Zhan would like to think that he has too much pride to allow himself to be the second choice, but if Yibo contacts him Xiao Zhan would be tempted to accept on any terms. To have Yibo in any way he can, and Xiao Zhan wants to protect himself from that possibility.

He’s extra careful with his own schedule, requesting that he only stays for the requisite time to please sponsors and management, and then leaves. It’s better for all involved, he tells his manager, given everything. She’s been there since the thing between him and Yibo was a fledgling seed, just taking root.

His manager isn’t fooled, but she’s too concerned by the way Xiao Zhan’s face crumples after asking for her help that she agrees hastily. It’s an added benefit that this mostly lets him avoid any of his and Yibo’s shared contacts, or Yibo’s friends.

Yibo’s social circle is pretty small for a celebrity, and even smaller for those he trusts. This helps Xiao Zhan manoeuvre more smoothly through engagements, and Yibo’s friends look none the wiser when he greets them as politeness dictates.

It’s a little hurtful that none of them have been updated on what happened between him and Yibo, as if the dissolution of their relationship had barely affected Yibo that he might need to go to his friends for comfort. Xiao Zhan has to repeat it to himself that it is for the best.

It’s impossible for him to completely avoid Yibo – they’re often invited to the same events and shows, but Xiao Zhan negotiates his timing such that he either arrives too late or leaves too early for either Yibo or him to catch sight of each other.

This is good, Xiao Zhan tells himself. This is the only way he can move on.

Zhuocheng is a reliable, dependable support. He and Xuan Lu refuse Xiao Zhan’s talk about renting another apartment, asking Xiao Zhan to stay in Zhuocheng’s spare room for as long as he needs.

He can’t go back to the one he shared with Yibo; he tried taking one step past the door and had been unable to bear the sudden nauseating feeling that had him weak in the knees.

Having Zhuocheng around is comforting – he doesn’t ask more questions that Xiao Zhan’s manager might, and he knows Yibo and Xiao Zhan as friends. He understands when Xiao Zhan comes to breakfast looking haggard and gaunt, and simply piles more food on his plate. Jianguo is also back home with his parents, so Xiao Zhan steals Danta from Zhuocheng periodically to hug, which proves a fine distraction.

Life carries on for two weeks for Xiao Zhan, who feels as though he is missing a phantom limb.

Yibo is in everything that he does.

When he brushes his teeth, he can feel the press of Yibo against his back, Yibo wrapping his arms around his waist as he rests his head on Xiao Zhan’s shoulder, laying gentle kisses on his neck. When he checks his phone he’s always confused as to why there aren’t any messages from Yibo to reply to, only to remember that he and Yibo aren’t talking anymore. His body pushes back when he’s lying in his single bed, expecting a warm weight bracketing him, shielding him against the rest of the world. But he leans back into empty air.

He can barely eat. Food that he once enjoyed all taste like powder and sand in his mouth. Xiao Zhan still remembers how Yibo had memorised his favourite foods in the beginning, naming them with relish as he’d brought Xiao Zhan to eat each one, eyes sparkling in the dark outside each storefront as he reached out to hold Xiao Zhan’s hand. He still remembers how Yibo’s knuckles had gently knocked against the back of his hand, and how Yibo had looked up at Xiao Zhan with something like wonder, that he could have Xiao Zhan like this.

He goes for the haircut alone, cancelling Yibo’s appointment and rescheduling it for one. As locks of hair are shaven from his fringe, his nape, and fall to the floor, Xiao Zhan has to remind himself that he’s going to start having to rearrange all his activities like this.

No more will he book for two, or go out and sit at a table across from Yibo’s loving gaze. No more will he bat Yibo’s hand away, and teasingly fight for the bill, or rest his hand on the table and feel tentative fingers slide in between his.

Xiao Zhan had fallen so easily into a life with Yibo, a natural, easy rhythm of having Yibo at his side that it is difficult to unlearn it.

He keeps turning to point out a funny looking cloud in the sky, or a lolling dog, anything that might bring a smile to Yibo’s lips, but all he does is turn to blank space. It leaves a bitter feeling on his tongue, a harsh clutch around his heart that he masks with his usual smile. If no one looks close enough to see that he’s slowly fading, it will be better for both him and Yibo.

His mother video calls him weekly, as she usually does, and she asks about Yibo as if Xiao Zhan still makes his breakfast in the mornings and refers to Yibo like Yibo’s still his.

Xiao Zhan doesn’t keep things from her, not anything like this, so he steadies himself and lets her know that they’ve split. Cleanly.

He doesn’t tell her the reason why, attempting a smile that cracks at the edges when she gives him a sympathetic look, seeing through him with familial ease.

 _It’s mutual_ , Xiao Zhan says, and that’s not a lie. For all the protesting Yibo did, he hasn’t reached out in any other way. He must be over Xiao Zhan by now, without all the useless dithering and wavering Xiao Zhan is doing. He gives her another smile, a little more brave and a little less shaky, and his mother nods at him with all the love in her eyes.

 _Oh, I’m so sorry_ , _A-Zhan,_ his mother says, exhaling. She looks terribly disappointed through the screen. _Your father and I, we really thought he was the one._

 _Yeah_ , Xiao Zhan says. _Me too._

He lets himself breathe these moments in.

It’s natural to miss Yibo, he thinks. You don’t just spend years of your life giving all you have to someone for it to be easily dismissed. He’s had other exes before, and it took a few weeks or months to get over them too. He’s going to take the time he needs to recover from this, all of it, and be kind to himself.

He was a whole before Yibo, and he will be a whole after, surely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for being so sweet and kind with your comments, i really appreciate and reread every single one!  
> i know this chapter is a little shorter, so i'll have the next one up sooner :)  
> if you like this fic, please feel free to scream at me @lanwuxiann on [tumblr](https://lanwuxiann.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/lanwuxiann). i'm always happy to make a new friend!
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is chapter four a little earlier as promised! 😊
> 
> please note: a very minor character attempts to harass xiao zhan in this chapter. this act is short and very quickly interrupted. if you wish to skip this part, please stop reading at "which he’s sure is much too obvious", and start again at "Xu Long screams as..."

It’s perhaps the universe’s idea of a cruel joke that it’s something Xiao Zhan can’t plan for that trips him up.

Barely three weeks after Yibo left their apartment, Xiao Zhan catches a glimpse of him as he weaves through the crowd at a wrap party to speak to another partygoer.

It isn’t even his or Yibo’s wrap party. They aren’t even part of the crew. Xiao Zhan had been invited by a producer, which was predictably a cover for introducing Xiao Zhan to his young, slightly awkward son who’s a rising actor.

The last he’d checked, Yibo is supposed to be otherwise engaged at a shoot across town. They shouldn’t even be anywhere near each other – and yet, here they are, making inconsequential small talk with others under warm golden lights.

Xiao Zhan stupidly thinks that maybe he’s seen it wrong, his brain so deprived of Yibo that it’s begun to imagine him where he isn’t. But he knows better than that.

It is Yibo, surely – his familiar silhouette, the broad strength of his shoulders where Xiao Zhan once rested, the long line of his neck that Xiao Zhan used to curl into. Even with the quick look he’d gotten, barely grazing Yibo’s frame, Xiao Zhan is entirely certain.

Yibo’s body is as familiar to him as his own, and Xiao Zhan’s sings with the sudden proximity, like that of a stranded man in the desert suddenly tasting a drop of water. It also hurts; a spreading throb that grows when Xiao Zhan positions himself away from Yibo’s line of sight, trying desperately to ignore the draw he feels in Yibo’s direction.

He tries to look away, tries to focus on holding the champagne glass in his hand properly so its contents don’t slosh on his bespoke suit.

It is an unsuccessful endeavour to remember what it is exactly that the young man in front of him is saying, shy and eager as he gestures brightly, telling Xiao Zhan about some incident from his latest project.

Xiao Zhan’s head is spinning. He thinks once, twice, about finding the closest exit and dashing out into the cold night, but it isn’t a good idea. It would be an affront to the producer and to his son for leaving after attending for only half an hour, and right now, Xiao Zhan can’t afford any more bad publicity.

It’s impossible to ignore Yibo. Xiao Zhan is attuned to him in a way he has never been with any other.

Before, Xiao Zhan thought he might be able to see Yibo at events, give him a cordial nod, and walk away. But now, all his expectations are smashed, burned to ash at the knowledge that Yibo is no more than a few metres from him, with someone else.

The hurt spreading across his body makes attempts at his heart, sharp pain erupting in his chest at the thought of Yibo enjoying the party while he attempts to stop the whirlpool in his chest from swallowing him whole. The air feels too thin even as Xiao Zhan adjusts his collar. He might be suffocating on Yibo’s closeness.

Xiao Zhan can’t resist the urge to catch a fuller glimpse of Yibo as Xu Long, the young man speaking with him, flags down a waiter to refill his glass. He looks up, and _oh_.

Any hope that Yibo might be missing Xiao Zhan as much as Xiao Zhan misses him dies a quick death.

Yibo looks – he looks happy. He’s wearing a form-fitting suit, his hair tousled into slight waves that frame his face perfectly. While he looks a little stiff, he’s clearly having a heartfelt conversation with the person in front of him. He doesn’t look like he’s been mourning Xiao Zhan’s loss at all.

Bitter hurt scalds his tongue, and Xiao Zhan has to look away, look down at Xu Long who’s none the wiser.

Xiao Zhan feels so small. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he thought Yibo would be affected at the very least. He would look tired, or slightly aggrieved, in the snappy way he usually adopts when he’s irritated or preoccupied with some other concern.

He has to push back the tears that gather at the corners of his eyes, swiftly wiping them away with his sleeve as Xu Long begins another spiel about his filming schedule and nervously asks Xiao Zhan for advice about acting and memorising his scripts.

Xiao Zhan clears his throat and recites the rehearsed lines he usually gives in interviews, trying to shake himself back to normalcy. But all the recovery talk he’s given himself has crumbled.

He’s just been fooling himself if he thought he could ever get over Yibo. One look and his whole world has shifted off balance yet again, leaving Xiao Zhan to hang on and no one to save him.

The ballroom feels too warm, cloistering heat causing Xiao Zhan to shift in place. Sweat’s gathered on his forehead, his face, and his neck, which he’s sure is much too obvious.

He’s just thinking he can survive this a little longer with Xu Long as his cover when Xu Long gives him a slow, considering look and then says, while reaching a hand to pat Xiao Zhan’s neck in his too-loud voice, “Xiao-laoshi, are you alright? You’re quite pale.”

Fuck.

Xiao Zhan blanches, stepping backwards, but Xu Long continues into his space, trying to wipe at Xiao Zhan’s neck with his sleeve.

He isn’t sure where Xu Long’s gotten this sudden dose of confidence, but there’s no way Yibo didn’t hear that. His head snaps up with dread, only to meet Yibo’s direct gaze, burning right into Xiao Zhan.

Yibo’s looking back fully, his clenching hand tight on his champagne glass as he looks between Xiao Zhan and Xu Long, his gaze landing finally on Xu Long’s hand at Xiao Zhan’s neck.

He stiffens visibly, a rigid adjustment to his posture that makes him straighten even taller than he’s standing now. After he mouths something to his companion, Xiao Zhan realises with mounting horror that Yibo’s steadily striding towards him, eyes serious and deep.

Shit. He needs to do something _now_ , and duck out before Yibo reaches them.

“Xu Long, it’s alright,” Xiao Zhan says, trying to duck away from Xu Long’s arm, but Xu Long only pauses slightly, continuing to trail his hand sickeningly over Xiao Zhan’s shoulder. Bile rises in Xiao Zhan's throat, as nausea seizes hold of his head.

Xiao Zhan’s about to raise his voice and shake his arm off more forcefully when a hand seizes Xu Long’s in a deathgrip, his wrist going white with the force of the hold.

Xu Long screams as Yibo steps forward to smoothly twist Xu Long’s arm behind his back.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” Yibo says lowly, fury in his gaze as Xu Long cowers under his grip. He steps in between Xiao Zhan and Xu Long, moving to swiftly shield Xiao Zhan from him.

Xiao Zhan can’t help but stare at Yibo, at the hard and angry way he’s addressing Xu Long, and drink him in. He’s missed him so much.

“I, I didn’t-” Xu Long protests, then cries out as Yibo twists his arm tighter.

Around them, people are starting to murmur, turning their attention to the blubbering spectacle Xu Long is making. Xiao Zhan hears someone call for another to get Xu Long’s father, and he lays an urgent hand on Yibo’s shoulder.

“Yibo, stop,” he tries, and Yibo’s head snaps around to stare at Xiao Zhan in disbelief.

“I saw what he was doing to you,” Yibo bites out, his heavy grip on Xu Long’s arm relentless.

Xiao Zhan stares at him, marking the trails of sweat running down his neck, the frenzied look in his eyes. “I’m not letting go until he gives you an apology and promises to never touch anyone like that again.”

“Yibo, please,” Xiao Zhan implores, seeing Xu Long’s father turn around across the room. “Let him go, it- it’s okay-”

This could end so badly for both of them. Xu Long is an asshole, but this isn’t the right time or the right place. Xiao Zhan will talk to his manager, let them settle this between companies and his father’s office. But right now, with so many people staring, Xiao Zhan just wants to shrivel up and hide. 

“No, it’s not,” Yibo growls, yanking on Xu Long even harder till he whimpers. His eyes are blazing, a deep black that arrests Xiao Zhan’s gaze and the air from his lungs. “Say it.”

“Ah, fuck, sorry, sorry, I won’t do it again, god,” Xu Long finally groans out, doubling over in pain as Yibo lets him go with a snarl, pushing Xu Long away from him and Xiao Zhan with a force that makes him stumble.

“Stay away from him, or you’ll regret it,” Yibo growls, and makes sure Xu Long is a distance away before he turns to Xiao Zhan, worry in his drawn, pale face. His brow is knitted, his hand coming up to hover at Xiao Zhan’s elbow to only dangle uselessly at his side. “Are you okay?”

Xiao Zhan looks down at Yibo, a few inches apart.

He’s trembling with adrenaline at what Xu Long tried to do to him, and his heartbeat is pounding in his ears. People are starting to look away, but not fast enough, and he can’t breathe. It’s a feeling of whiplash, like he’s just narrowly avoided a car crash. He’d just been coming to terms with losing Yibo forever and now he’s standing an arm’s length from Xiao Zhan.

Yibo looks like he’d be warm and solid pressed against Xiao Zhan’s front. His suit is crumpled, his hair in disarray. There are spots of colour high on his flushed cheeks, his lips crimson from colour and exertion. His hands reach out towards Xiao Zhan again, and Xiao Zhan can’t let Yibo touch him. Not if it’s going to all be ripped away again in a moment.

Xiao Zhan shies away, just a simple draw of his arm away from Yibo, but Yibo’s expression turns confused, injured, staring at Xiao Zhan’s arm like he can’t think of why he’s being refused. Xiao Zhan feels like his heart is beginning to break all over again.

Yibo’s so beautiful it hurts, so Xiao Zhan turns and runs.

He’s blindly slipping through the crowd, following an impression he has of the room and where the exit is. He’s a mess, his vision muddying with unshed tears as he trips on gowns and steps on feet, apologising as he goes. It’s like a cold shock, an icy bucket of water overturned on his head.

What is he thinking, allowing Yibo to get as close as he did? He can’t fall back into Xiao Zhan’s life without so much as an apology.

He can’t- he can’t do something so _Yibo_ , like protecting Xiao Zhan, and expect Xiao Zhan to welcome him back so easily. He can’t mess with Xiao Zhan’s head like this.

Xiao Zhan isn’t ready to see him despite how much he wants to take Yibo back. He doesn’t know where Yibo has been for a month, where he’s been staying, who he’s been touching. Who he’s replaced Xiao Zhan with. He doesn’t know if Yibo is his to take back anymore.

Likely Yibo was just doing another kind, considerate deed as a gesture of goodwill, or to give Xiao Zhan something better to remember him by. And yet, Xiao Zhan wants so badly for it to be real, for Yibo to still want him in return.

Xiao Zhan’s mildly aware of someone chasing after him, and fights harder to the exit doors. He doesn’t want Yibo to see him crying, shedding tears for someone who doesn’t love him back.

He flies past the ballroom doors, sliding past thickly armed security, and finally out the rotating doors of the blinding glitz of the hotel lobby into the cold night air.

There’s a row of similar black celebrity vans all parked along the sidewalk, frost starting to creep up their panes. Xiao Zhan tries to spot the van his manager’s hired, but they’re all blurring together, a black smear against the white chill of the evening. He looks around fruitlessly – none of the drivers motion at him to signal themselves as his designated driver.

That makes sense; the dinner isn’t supposed to end till a few hours past midnight, even, and it’s barely nine. He’s going to have to ask for an earlier pickup. It isn’t safe for him to catch a cab or take any public transport.

His heart pounds furiously in his chest as he slides his phone out of his suit pocket. His fingers are slowly starting to stiffen in the cold.

He didn’t get to take his winter overcoat from the powder room before he left in a hurry, and now he’s regretting the decision. He’s also very conspicuous like this; standing outside a big hotel in an expensive tailored suit without a mask or umbrella to shield him.

At once, he feels utterly foolish. He’d dismissed his bodyguards for the night, assuming the small, private gathering with no fans was nothing to worry about. Just a handful of closer entertainment associates, and an evening without trouble. His manager would schedule a pickup at the appropriate time.

He’d just wanted some time to feel like himself again, free from the cloud hanging over him telling him he hadn’t been enough. Hadn’t been enough for Yibo, hadn’t been enough for someone he’d loved.

He’s been wondering exactly what it is about him that he could have changed. Maybe he should have taken better care of Yibo. Maybe he should have cooked him better food, or gotten him better gifts, or given him better sex.

It’s so mind-numbing to think of all of these things. To think that all this time he’s just never measured up. To think that Yibo had been looking at him, assessing his cooking, assessing everything he’d given, or Xiao Zhan’s body, and had felt dissatisfied, or disgusted. To think Yibo had been looking at Xiao Zhan, every bit of him vulnerable and exposed like a beating heart that he’d put into Yibo’s hands and had found him wanting.

It makes him want to scrub all feeling from his skin, to lather away every bit, and dispose of himself.

Xiao Zhan sets his teeth stubbornly and quickly swipes to launch WeChat and message his manager. He isn’t going to go back inside. It would be too embarrassing if he saw Yibo after running from him, and he would just thaw at the sight of him all over again.

He’s just about to type out a message when his phone screen goes black. He presses the lock button twice and shakes it in a fit of desperation, but it remains stubbornly unlit. He’s going to have to go back into the hotel lobby and request to use their landline, and possibly receive some gratuitous stares as he does so.

The thought is stomach-turning, and he feels like he might throw up. He can’t imagine anyone else seeing him in this state, where he feels like he’s bleeding on the inside from the pretence of it all.

This is the last thing Xiao Zhan needs tonight – the cherry on top of the cake, really.

It feels like the whole world is conspiring against him. He can barely believe it’s only been a few weeks since Yibo walked out. He feels like he’s aged irreparably, irrevocably changed by the view of Yibo’s back disappearing from his sight.

He laughs to himself wetly, letting his head fall back to gaze up at the night sky lit by handfuls of stars, flickering endlessly in the yawning black void above. Tears catch in his eyelashes where he’s blinked, refraction causing his vision to glitter and stain.

The cityscape of Beijing is fully lit, towering skyscrapers and their billboards casting light on him, causing the threads of his suit to shimmer. He feels so small, and so alone like this.

Xiao Zhan misses Yibo so much.

It aches to hide it in his chest, like a black hole that’s been growing, feeding itself on Xiao Zhan’s despair over the past weeks. It’s all consuming, swallowing, and jumbling all the things Xiao Zhan’s been cradling to himself – fleeting memories and gentle whispers that he can’t let go of.

He’s tried, he really has. But every time he tries to shut the door on thoughts of Yibo, he can’t help but remember how hard Yibo fought to come in.

How hard those first few months he’d flirted, pressed, pushed his way into Xiao Zhan’s life with the full confidence that he belonged there, that he was good for Xiao Zhan. How much he had continued to try, even through schedule conflicts, and brief, interrupted dates. They’d made it work till it had crumbled to dust and now Xiao Zhan’s left holding the ashes in his hands.

It hurts so much to bury this – this bright thing between them and feign like he’s okay. It feels like it can’t be shrouded, or put behind a veil. It’s a string connecting them that can’t just be suppressed till it disappears or is loosely cut. Xiao Zhan’s scissors are too blunt for that.

There’s too much pressure building in his chest as Xiao Zhan stares at the skyline, his gaze sliding across each building. So he allows himself this much, and he says it out loud.

“I miss you,” Xiao Zhan tries, and as if the words were trapped in his mouth, they escape like a deflating balloon and fade into the night. Voicing it feels somewhat cathartic, with nothing but the air puffing from his lips in the cold and the stars dancing in his eyes. He tries again, feeling the slight ease in his chest. “I miss you.”

He chokes on that last word, feeling his breath stick in his throat. Tears rise in his eyes.

“I miss you so much,” Xiao Zhan says, and it is like shedding a second skin. He holds his breath before he can break down, hugging his elbows as he steels himself against the wind. He tucks his face towards his chest and lets the tears brim and run down his cheeks. “I miss you.”

For a second, it’s like the earth stands still, his voice continuing to ring out in the silence. Then-

“I miss you too.”

It’s spoken, distinct and decisive in Yibo’s deep voice, and Xiao Zhan whirls around in shock, cheeks burning.

Yibo’s standing a metre from him, Xiao Zhan’s heavy overcoat draped over his forearm. His eyes are cautious but clear, intent where they meet Xiao Zhan’s. He’s devastating under the city lights; the warm glow of a ballroom only fettering how he blooms under neon and sharp shadows.

He’s missing his own overcoat, and his chest is rising and falling sharply, like he’d run through the entire hotel ballroom and lobby searching for Xiao Zhan. But he’s standing motionless all the same, watching Xiao Zhan, and waiting.

Xiao Zhan can’t do anything but stare, his feet locked into place. Then he remembers how he must look, pathetic and embarrassing crying over someone who cheated on him. He tries to twist away, his hands flying hastily up to his face to hide it.

“Please,” Xiao Zhan says, and he’s humiliated for how it comes out all broken and pitiful. “Don’t look at me. Don’t lie to me.”

There’s a pause, and then Yibo steps forward, slowly, like he’s approaching a spooked animal. He’s giving Xiao Zhan the space he needs to move away, to leave, but Xiao Zhan can’t. He shields his face with his hands as Yibo shifts closer and closer, and then Yibo’s free hand is gentle on his wrist, guiding his hand back to his side.

Yibo moves even further into Xiao Zhan’s space, and then his fingers slide against Xiao Zhan’s cheek, his soft palm warm and heated. He gazes at Xiao Zhan unreadably, his thumb running softly along the tender skin at the corner of his eye. It pulls the tears gathering in his eyes aside, pushing them away from his skin.

Xiao Zhan should push him away. He should.

But right now all he can do is tremble in Yibo’s hold, fighting to keep himself upright. He wants- he wants Yibo to kiss a bruise into his skin, and he wants to walk away. He doesn’t know what he wants, and all he can do is stare down at the man who he once shared everything with.

He can smell Yibo’s usual cologne, and the memory comes back to him, of pushing his face into Yibo’s neck and smelling someone else. The change must come across his face like swift-moving rainclouds, because Yibo’s grip tightens, his eyes growing alarmed.

Yibo’s breath runs against his chin, gentle puffs that betray how affected he is. A gentle drizzle has started, causing his hair to plaster slightly against his face, his bangs wet and shiny on his forehead.

Now, in the rain, he doesn’t look like a celebrity. Even in his expensive suit and expertly done makeup, standing with Xiao Zhan’s coat in hand and not his own.

He just looks like the simple boy Xiao Zhan fell in love with.

Yibo’s mouth works once, twice, and his jaw sets before he opens it.

“I’ve never looked away from you, not since the first time we met,” Yibo says, and he states it like it’s the plain and unwavering truth. His eyelids flutter, his voice running uneven and serrated where it slices through the thin night air as Xiao Zhan starts to shutter and turn away. “I’ve never lied about this, I promise, Zhan-ge.”

He grabs at Xiao Zhan’s hand with a renewed urgency, his eyes imploring as Xiao Zhan shakes his head, feeling a shooting pain return to his chest. 

“Yibo, don’t,” Xiao Zhan manages, gathering his will to pull at Yibo’s wrist. He can’t do this now, and see the man he loves being deceitful to him with such an earnest expression on his face. Not in front of all these drivers, and in public. “Not now. Not- not here.”

This is something to break his heart over in a dim living room, by his kitchen table where Yibo can walk out again and Xiao Zhan can fall to ruins without anyone else around.

Yibo steps away, but his hand merely slips down to tangle with Xiao Zhan’s. His hair is ruined now, as Xiao Zhan’s surely is, but neither of them can look away, like moths to the same flame.

“Then when?” Yibo asks quietly, his gaze searing. Xiao Zhan has to force himself to not look away, confronted in full by Yibo’s resolve. “Zhan-ge, I’ve been waiting for you for a month now.”

That has Xiao Zhan almost swaying backwards in confusion.

“Waiting for what?” Xiao Zhan questions, though he already knows the possible answers. Waiting for Xiao Zhan to be ready to see him again, waiting for Xiao Zhan to miss him so much he’ll fall right back in Yibo’s arms like a desperate lover. It could go either way at this point, no matter how much the look in Yibo’s eyes makes Xiao Zhan’s stomach feel like an endless pit. “What is there to wait for?”

“Everything.” Yibo looks wounded now, raindrops trailing off his fringe into his eyes. He’s barely blinking, his eyes sharp as if he wants to capture every single thing. “Everything – you, you know that.”

Xiao Zhan lets out a little chuckle at that, and he’s almost vindicated for how Yibo’s gaze darts to his mouth then back up to his eyes. He’s loved Yibo’s directness and his pretty words all the same, but this fragility is new and difficult to witness.

He looks wrecked, and Xiao Zhan almost wants to scream. S _erves you right for breaking my heart. For leaving me as easy as breathing. For betraying all your promises and walking away._

“How do you know I haven’t moved on?” Xiao Zhan asks simply, keeping his face neutral as he detaches Yibo’s fingers from his, cold and indifferent. “It’s funny that you think I’ve been waiting for you all this time.”

He needs to retain some of his pride at least, try to hold himself upright before he begs for Yibo back. It’s the furthest thing from the truth, but Yibo doesn’t need to know that. 

Yibo’s lips twist, his expression slipping as he swallows, his jaw working as he exhales long and low. His hand clenches into a fist and then relaxes at his side.

Then he unfolds Xiao Zhan’s coat, shaking it out slightly to remove some snow and rain. It hangs dark and black between them for an instant.

Yibo steps next to Xiao Zhan and pulls warmth around his shoulders.

At once, Xiao Zhan stops shivering, staring in shock at Yibo as Yibo rests the coat on his back, pulling the sides against his chest to meet in the middle. It hangs open again as soon as he lets go, his hands pulling away slowly, his fingers straying as if they can’t bear to lose their hold.

“If you’ve met someone else, then I only have myself to blame,” Yibo says, and his voice shakes a little as he tucks his arms back to his sides. His eyes dart away, resting on a frosted lamppost. “But if you have it within yourself to, to listen to what I have to say. Please. You know my number.” Then he turns and strides back towards the hotel doors.

Xiao Zhan watches till he can’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're more than halfway through with this fic now, thank you so much for staying and reading!  
> every single comment makes me smile so much, i appreciate it all!
> 
> if you like this fic, please feel free to scream at me @lanwuxiann on [tumblr](https://lanwuxiann.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/lanwuxiann). i'm always happy to make a new friend!
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! <3


	5. Chapter 5

Xiao Zhan doesn’t sleep that night. It evades him, slipping easily out his grasp like a wet sponge.

Yibo’s words, his haunted expression, his jerky hands pulling a coat over Xiao Zhan’s shoulders to keep him warm swim in front of his eyes, threatening to make his sight murky.

He doesn’t know what to think, tossing and turning in Zhuocheng’s spare bedroom till the creaky bedframe croaks so hard Zhuocheng peeks in to ask him if there’s anything wrong.

After a few more hours of indecision, Xiao Zhan sits up in bed, fumbling for his glasses and reaching for his phone. It’s charged now, the brightness making his eyes twinge before he dials it down.

He breathes in slowly, swallowing down all thoughts of rejection as he begins thumbing out a message to Yibo.

It’s slow, unhurried as he tries to think of what to say. He finds himself writing and rewriting the message so many times the words float together behind his eyes when he closes them. There are too many ways to say he misses Yibo, and none seem to hold enough weight.

He settles on a comfortable message, nothing too elaborate.

_Yibo, are you still up to meet?_

It’s perfectly neutral, nothing more than he would send a business acquaintance. If Yibo rejects him, or has changed his mind, this is a perfect starter, better than something like _Yibo, I’ve missed you_ , or, _Yibo, I can’t stop loving you. Sorry._

He waits barely two seconds before a message pops up below his, and Xiao Zhan’s eyes widen. It’s practically the middle of the night, a quarter past three in the morning.

_Hi Zhan-ge. Couldn’t sleep?_

What is Xiao Zhan going to say to that? He can’t look like he’s been staying up all night thinking about Yibo, can he? What might Yibo think about that – particularly if he’s lying in bed with someone else curled around him?

Xiao Zhan has to temper the hot drag of pain in his belly at the thought of another man’s arm wrapped around Yibo’s waist.

He knows every dip of Yibo’s body, the divots at his hips, the line of his back. He’s mapped every scar, every mole and shadow with his tongue. To think that someone else has fit their fingers around Yibo makes his chest burn.

It’s humiliating. Yibo knows him too well to think that Xiao Zhan would be staying up for any other reason. When they were together, Xiao Zhan had always been a big proponent of sleeping as much as he could afford.

 _Age is a big killer of youthful spirit alongside back pain_ , he’d always told Yibo, right before pulling a laughing Yibo into bed to join him. Yibo kept a regular sleep schedule because he was with Xiao Zhan. But that was then, and Xiao Zhan can’t help cursing his past self.

However, just as he’s about to type back something flimsy – that he’d been reviewing a script, or watching a movie, there’s another ping from Yibo. It’s soon followed by others, a gush of messages that used to happen when they were dating, when Yibo would text Xiao Zhan anything and everything that came to his mind.

The lack of messages Xiao Zhan has been receiving of late has made him feel so lonely.

Seeing these new messages pour in from Yibo and their notifications light up his header makes a smile twitch unbidden on his lips – a muscle memory from when he was happy.

_Me too. Not after seeing you tonight._

_You don’t need to elaborate._

_I can hear you thinking from here._

_So, anyway. To answer your question._

_Yes, Zhan-ge._

_For you, always._

That makes Xiao Zhan’s heart thud in his chest. What could Yibo possibly mean?

He shakes his head before typing again, firm and absolute in his words. He isn’t going to allow his desperate self to think or respond to anything before he gets the full truth.

_Then – 11 am, this Saturday?_

_Alright._

_Where is best for you?_

Xiao Zhan bites his lip. Time to drop the hammer.

_I can head over to yours?_

_Sure. I’m renting here._

_[Location attached.]_

_I have a schedule before 11, but I’ll ask them to let you up if I’m late._

Yibo replies immediately with an address not too far from their old flat, which makes something flare in Xiao Zhan’s chest.

Was- Did Yibo think he might be coming back? Did he think Xiao Zhan was still in their flat, and stayed by to look out for him? Or has he met someone whom he’s staying with, thinking their flat is much nicer than the one he and Xiao Zhan owned?

Xiao Zhan still hasn’t been able to let go of the flat. He can’t bring himself to think of what he might do with it, with the cold look on Yibo’s face as he shrugs, telling Xiao Zhan to get rid of it. So Xiao Zhan’s hung on to the keys, and he isn’t going to bring it up unless Yibo does.

_Okay. See you then._

_See you, Zhan-ge._

_Goodnight._

_Goodnight, Yibo._

Xiao Zhan falls asleep with his phone tucked beneath his arm, cradled next to his chest.

==

The week crawls by, a slow passing of days that has Xiao Zhan tapping his feet in between appointments and checking the day on his phone, willing it to change.

He fumbles a few lines during recordings, and misses a couple of his cues, causing his manager to throw him worried looks.

This isn’t like Xiao Zhan at all. She must think he’s still affected by what happened between him and Xu Long, who has since been reprimanded and punished by his company for his behaviour. Xiao Zhan also received a personal apology from Xu Long’s father, and a promise that he would be dealt with.

With one less thing on his mind, Xiao Zhan’s attention is unfortunately, wholly consumed by the meeting he will have with Yibo on the weekend.

Zhuocheng and Xuan Lu are cautiously happy for him, saying that communication will do him a world of good. He’s a mix of dread and a traitorous sense of hope that keeps singing in his chest.

Yibo cheated on him.

Yibo wants to see him.

Yibo lied to him.

Yibo misses him.

Everything is a jumble, revolving in his mind like an endless crossword puzzle he can’t solve. The only way to go about this is an honest conversation that hopefully won’t end with Xiao Zhan in shameful, uncontrollable tears.

Before he knows it, Saturday morning comes and it sees Xiao Zhan fretfully beginning his day. He’d barely slept, thinking of all the different combinations of words they might say, or hurl at each other. They fill him with a thick nausea, causing his stomach to curdle.

He shrugs on a simple pale blue shirt and a pair of dark wash jeans that hopefully don’t hint at the hours he’d stared at his wardrobe, despairing over what to wear. Despite all the brands which have sent him cases full of clothing, somehow nothing seems suitable. He’s left his hair unstyled, wearing his usual thick glasses and no makeup to cover his dark eye circles.

Xiao Zhan had considered putting it up, or wearing something bright and new to maybe suggest that he wasn’t doing as poorly as he was. That he had a life outside of Yibo, or even a new man that spoiled him. As if he wasn’t waiting around hung up over Yibo, crying at memories of him, or flinching at every mention of his name.

In the movies, that represented a successful breakup. Both parties would go their own way, and try to come back stronger than the other, with someone new and better on their arm.

But Xiao Zhan doesn’t want someone new, and he knows that there is no one better. He doesn’t want someone else too tall or too short, smiling at him in all the wrong ways. He doesn’t want someone who doesn’t lean into his space, or daringly fluster him, or talk to him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

The idea that he might lie, and pretend that he is doing fine, that he has barely missed Yibo, leaves a sour taste in his mouth. It is not like him to be dishonest in this way, both to Yibo and himself.

And Yibo – he’d said before that he’d fallen in love with Xiao Zhan for his integrity and kindness.

Xiao Zhan isn’t about to be callous with someone he loves, even if Yibo is the one who hurt him first. If Yibo is the one who’s doing better, Xiao Zhan will use their meeting for closure. He’ll find a way to move on, somehow, and he’ll try his best to wish Yibo well. It will hurt, but he can’t continue in this indolent torpor that he’s been floating through, with no beginning and no end.

Zhuocheng gives him a lift to Yibo’s apartment building, dropping him off at the door to the lobby with an encouraging smile and a big thumbs-up.

Xiao Zhan gives him a shaky smile back; it’s the least he owes Zhuocheng, for these past weeks of unwavering support. He lifts an arm in a unsteady wave as Zhuocheng drives away slowly, sticking his free hand out the rolled-down window to wave back.

There’s a few tears prickling his eyes as he stares up at the massive apartment building, all shining foil and aluminium. It’s sparkling clean, and very cold. The lobby is no different, more like an office building than a housing apartment.

Xiao Zhan’s half-expecting to see some businesspeople come around the corner, toting briefcases and hot coffee. But none do, and it has surprisingly low traffic for a weekend morning.

His heart seizes a little. This is entirely different from the house he and Yibo had shared, which supplied privacy but also copious amounts of warmth with its swarthy wood and homey finishings.

Somehow, he can’t imagine Yibo walking through this lobby with a smile on his face, opening the door for someone else like he used to do for Xiao Zhan, shielding him from the wind and rain.

It is easier to picture Yibo returning to this building alone, collar turned up against the wind with no one to straighten it for him as he strides efficiently past the reception. It is a simpler thing to imagine him without another at his side here, and that makes Xiao Zhan falter.

He would never want for Yibo to be lonely.

Yibo is his most beautiful grinning with mirth in a laughter-filled conversation, playing off of others' quips and returning them with backhands of his own. He’s at his highest leading a team, bouncing off other people’s energy and letting them do the same. He’s at his most vulnerable when he lets someone in, his wide smiles slipping into tender looks and soft, loyal eyes.

Xiao Zhan would want nothing less for Yibo than for him to be happy, even if it is with someone else.

A doorman holds the door open for him, and a receptionist greets him clinically, directing him to a set of private lifts to the back of the lobby.

The lift automatically begins its ascent to the penthouse. Xiao Zhan’s pulse climbs along with every increase of the floor number on the lift panel display. He wrestles with his watch, turning it around and around on his wrist. The chafe provides a burn that tethers him to the ground, to this reality.

It feels so entirely strange to be visiting Yibo’s apartment. Xiao Zhan doesn’t even remember what the previous apartment Yibo owned looked like before they bought a house together. All of that seems so far away now, as if the memories of a time without Yibo are hovering just out of his reach. Who Xiao Zhan was before Yibo and who Xiao Zhan is now seems so incongruous.

The lift slides to an even halt, jostling Xiao Zhan out of his reverie. The lift doors slide open, and Xiao Zhan steps into Yibo’s private foyer designated to receive guests. It’s as empty as the lobby, entirely removed and undecorated.

The walk to Yibo’s main door seems endless, and yet Xiao Zhan reaches it quickly, the roughened toes of his sneakers knocking against the step in the marble flooring.

He about to raise his leadened hand and knock when the door swings open abruptly, making Xiao Zhan stumble back in surprise.

Yibo’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide as he takes Xiao Zhan in from behind the thick black face mask Xiao Zhan’s wearing and the beanie pulled low on his head.

He looks a little out of breath, his chest rising and falling as he stares at Xiao Zhan, his breath coming and going in low puffs. He’s not wearing any makeup, his face bare and clean. His dark brown hair is completely unstyled and messy on his forehead. He’s wearing the pink sweatshirt he used to always lounge around in in their old home, and a pair of grey sweatpants.

With a crash, Xiao Zhan’s raised hackles crumble like a sledgehammer taken to uneven rock.

There’s a certain sense of peace and acceptance that Xiao Zhan feels filling the gaping maw in his chest. It dislodges the shards of pain and disquiet that have been plaguing him, twisting and turning to wreak more and more havoc. Looking at Yibo now, he isn’t certain of what’s next to come, but he knows he will never stop loving the boy in front of him.

“May I-” Xiao Zhan inclines his head at the door, and with a start, Yibo jumps backwards, pulling the door open wider.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, sorry,” Yibo mumbles, and Xiao Zhan steps in, toeing out of his sneakers as Yibo shuts the door and turns the locks. He pulls off his beanie and his mask, laying them hesitantly on the sidetable before he turns around to survey the apartment.

It’s white and formal, with a spotless interior. It’s clear Yibo hasn’t begun to unpack, given the precarious mass of haphazardly piled boxes that sit in his living room, next to the coffee table and the couch. There’s a long dining table, and an icy kitchen, and that’s as much as Xiao Zhan can see without peering too obviously into the hallway off to the side or up the metal staircase.

He doesn’t want to look either, just in case there’s someone else in there who’s staying put for the duration of this meeting. He doesn’t think he can bear it if another man stepped out of any of the rooms beyond, where Xiao Zhan is still a stranger, from a part of Yibo’s life Xiao Zhan hasn’t touched.

He breathes in deep, then turns back to Yibo, who meets his gaze steadily. Has Yibo been watching as Xiao Zhan blatantly surveys his house?

Xiao Zhan feels his cheeks colour as he gestures to the living room, trying to think of the appropriate thing to do when visiting your ex for the first time.

“Your house- It’s… it’s very nice,” Xiao Zhan winces as Yibo’s eyebrows raise, then knit together as his mouth smooths into a flat line.

Yibo shrugs, stepping towards the couch, and Xiao Zhan follows, mentally berating himself. He wants a big hole to open up and swallow him down with the tense way Yibo’s shoulders are set.

“It’s alright,” Yibo replies after a beat, and Xiao Zhan watches in confusion as he starts clearing away cushions and a thick blanket from the long, plush couch. “Sit?”

Xiao Zhan dithers helplessly for a moment before sitting down, and Yibo starts pouring out a glass of water from the jug and two cups he’s prepared on the coffee table. Yibo hands it one to him with a muttered “be careful”, and Xiao Zhan nods in thanks as he cradles the cup in his hands. The water is hot, not scalding but soothing to drink, the exact way Xiao Zhan likes it.

Tears spring to his eyes as he swallows a few gulps, willing them to fade before he lowers the cup and places it back on the low table carefully. Even sitting here with Yibo, in the tentative silence, causes a comforting warmth to sweep over Xiao Zhan. Yibo still cares enough to take care of Xiao Zhan like this.

Xiao Zhan just hopes he can find the strength within him to let go.

“Are you sleeping here? On the couch?” Xiao Zhan asks tentatively, turning to face Yibo, who’s sitting with his hands clasped between his knees. Yibo nods, huffing out a cutting laugh as he shakes his head.

The anger that flares within him at the thought that the man Yibo is with hasn’t been taking care of Yibo comes hot and heavy. If he isn’t going to treat Yibo right, he doesn’t deserve Yibo at all.

If- If it was Xiao Zhan, Yibo would always come home to a pair of open arms, and a warm bed.

“Yeah. Bed’s too big.” Yibo mutters, then clears his throat, eyes downcast. He pulls at the collar of his sweatshirt with restless fingers.

Xiao Zhan tilts his head in question, wanting to ask about the man Yibo’s staying with and shake him till he rattles when Yibo turns more firmly to him, a resolved look in his eyes.

“Listen, Zhan-ge, before we start,” Yibo says. He lets out a breath, tongue running along the line of his teeth as he parses what he’s trying to say. “I think… I think there was a big misunderstanding.”

Xiao Zhan rears back immediately, face darkening at Yibo’s words. He was expecting an apology, or even an admission. But to hear Yibo try to excuse himself when Xiao Zhan’s seen with his own eyes Yibo’s betrayal, and heard a confession of guilt from his lips? It’s like a punch to the stomach.

Xiao Zhan takes a ragged breath, his body shifting away from Yibo on autopilot. He curls in on himself, a blind attempt to stave off the hurt that slices at his chest.

Suddenly, he’s back in their kitchen, watching a hotpot bowl grow cold.

“Shit, fuck, wait, Xiao Zhan-” Yibo’s already reaching for him, panic in his wild gaze, but Xiao Zhan is pushing back his searching hands, his eyesight blurring. He lifts his glasses to wipe away the fog in his eyes, but it just keeps coming – fresh, hot tears, and sobs that clog his throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, Zhan-ge, please-”

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan chokes out, and Yibo freezes, fingers pulling gently at the arm of Xiao Zhan’s sweater. Yibo looks strangled, his darting gaze frantic as he holds on. He must think Xiao Zhan wants to disappear. “I’m not going to leave.”

At that, Yibo settles a bit, his fingers turning to soothe Xiao Zhan by rubbing up and down his arm. He brings Xiao Zhan a box of tissues, and gently pulls up Xiao Zhan’s glasses so he can blow his nose and clear his phlegm.

Yibo gathers up all the sodden tissue with no hesitation, throwing it into the kitchen bin and washing his hands, before he returns cautiously to the couch, and wraps Xiao Zhan’s hands more firmly around his warm mug.

Xiao Zhan stomach sinks at the thought of how Yibo has had to take care of him yet again today, on the day where they finalise the end of their relationship. The day where Yibo tells Xiao Zhan sorry, with a look of pity on his face. Where Yibo will guide him back to the front door to shoo him out and wave him away like a pet that’s gotten a little too fond and secure in its master’s love.

When he looks up, Yibo is waiting for Xiao Zhan to sniffle and clear his thoughts. Yibo’s legs start jolting up and down, a clear sign that he’s anxious, but he stays silent, meeting Xiao Zhan’s gaze slowly. He’s waiting on Xiao Zhan to begin, entirely considerate and _good_ , and Xiao Zhan needs to talk now, or he won’t ever be able to again.

“I saw you,” Xiao Zhan says, and his voice breaks as the worst day of his life is shoved to the forefront of his mind, a movie playing in high definition that he doesn’t want to watch. “That day. I travelled to the shop near to the university to get the gong cai you like. I was on the way back to- to our home when-”

Xiao Zhan trembles, placing the cup down onto the table so the water won’t spill out and wet his pants. He has to lick his lips and force his jaw to work. He looks down at his shaking hands in his lap as he says the next words. He can’t bring himself to look at Yibo. “I saw you in Starbucks with this, this man, and the way you looked at- at-”

At this, Yibo’s face twists in open despair, and he looks like he wants to speak, but Xiao Zhan holds up a quivering hand. The sight of it quells Yibo, and he looks as though he wants to do something, like stand up and pace, or argue, but he remains stiff-backed on the couch.

“You told me you were coming back later, so I was- I thought- I saw-” Xiao Zhan can’t stop the pathetic broken-hearted chuckle he lets out. His tongue feels inexorably heavy and sticky in his mouth, and his words keep getting tangled on it. “Anyway. I know. It’s okay.”

Yibo makes an aborted motion to open his mouth but he stops, his mouth snapping shut when Xiao Zhan shakes his head. “Please let me finish, Yibo.”

The next few words are the hardest he’s ever had to say, and Xiao Zhan’s turned these words over and over in his head for hours and practised them in the mirror so he wouldn’t shatter while saying them.

But reality is so much worse than anything he could have imagined. He has to pause after each feeble word is ripped from his mouth, trying to smile and choke down the bile rising sharply in his throat. More than any acting injury, or the constant criticism he receives, this is the most painful thing he has ever had to experience.

“There’s no use dwelling on it,” Xiao Zhan says, as smoothly as he can, pulling on years of experience in front of a camera to lie through his teeth and not fall to pieces. He wrenches together all the remaining bravery he can muster, and pats Yibo’s hand gently. It feels rougher than usual, like Yibo hasn’t been moisturising without someone around to remind him to.

“I understand. It’s okay that you fell in love with somebody else. That’s what people do when they’re young, remember? I wish you had broken up with me, but what’s done is done.”

He has to swallow weakly multiple times before he says this next part, his heart aching terribly in his chest. Images of Yibo promising to stay with him, and of how sure he was about having Xiao Zhan at his side forever flash through his mind relentlessly, like a bleeding wound he cannot staunch.

But he doesn’t want to be even more of a burden to Yibo. If he keeps fighting like this, all he will gain is Yibo’s sympathy, and he will lose all of Yibo’s respect. He still wants Yibo to remember him as the man he fell in love with, to remember why he fell in love with Xiao Zhan in these final, precious moments.

He wants Yibo to remember how it felt to stand a little too close to Xiao Zhan, how it felt to feel Xiao Zhan’s hot breath on his lips. He wants Yibo to remember how he used to lounge with Xiao Zhan in their king bed on off days, how he used to pull Xiao Zhan into his arms and say that he was holding his whole world in his hands.

He wants Yibo to remember how he once touched his knuckles to the back of Xiao Zhan’s cheek, and whispered that Xiao Zhan was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“I know we can move past this, and I know we’ll still remain friends.”

The words ring out into the vaulted ceilings of Yibo’s still apartment, and Xiao Zhan casts his gaze down at his lap, waiting for Yibo to reply. Every passing second feels like Xiao Zhan’s being crushed by the agonising silence.

It’s like the space between them on the couch has widened to a bottomless chasm, and there isn’t a bridge across. Xiao Zhan can only watch as they threaten to teeter into the dark, unable to touch.

When the quiet has stretched for far too long, Xiao Zhan slowly lifts his head to meet Yibo’s gaze.

What he sees has him reaching forward rapidly in horror – Yibo’s eyes are liquid with unshed tears, held back by stuttering blinks and sheer will. His hands flex on his lap where Xiao Zhan desperately curls his fingers around them.

“Oh, Yibo- Yibo, please,” Xiao Zhan says, pained. He thumbs at the back of Yibo’s hand softly, at the tiny scar he knows Yibo got falling off his skateboard a few months ago that’s yet to heal fully. The creases of skin on his knuckles, the slight smatter of sunspots colouring his wrist – Xiao Zhan loves them all. He’s kissed every one, and he will never do so again. “This is the best way-”

Yibo is looking at him like he’s devastated, but that doesn’t seem right. He’s the one in love with someone else. He doesn’t get to look like that.

“Xiao Zhan,” Yibo begins, and his voice cracks in a way that Xiao Zhan has only heard once – that day, when Yibo had asked him if Xiao Zhan had so meticulously planned a goodbye dinner for them. As if he couldn’t imagine Xiao Zhan taking the time to do so, as if it had been such a cruel and hateful thing to do, when Yibo had been the one to hurt Xiao Zhan beyond repair. “You can’t mean that.”

“Yibo-” Xiao Zhan sighs, shaking his head.

Yibo is like a relentless wave, crashing time and time again onto Xiao Zhan’s shores. But he has to let go. He has to give Yibo the freedom he wants, even if it will not free Yibo like he thought it would. He has to think of himself too.

“Zhan-ge, please- please just listen to me, what I have to say,” Yibo says, and his eyes are imploring, despairing as his fingers hold on tighter to Xiao Zhan’s. “What I said when we first got together – I, I meant every single word. Please give me this much, I need to tell you, please-”

Xiao Zhan’s vacillation yields slowly at the sadness in Yibo’s eyes, the miserable frown on his lips. He manages to nod once so Yibo settles slightly, like a spooked animal that’s been calmed.

“Zhan-ge. That man you saw me with – His name is Cao Ran.” Yibo wastes no time in reaching for his phone with his free hand – the one that’s not settled in Xiao Zhan’s palm – and unlocking it to pull up his gallery. “We’re castmates.”

He scrolls a little before stopping at a picture of what looks like a makeup room, before pressing on it to open it up. The picture opens wide to fill Yibo’s phone screen, and Xiao Zhan flinches away instinctively, but the insistent grip Yibo has on his hand makes Xiao Zhan look down and-

Oh.

It’s a simple, ordinary cast photo, with Yibo in his new drama’s modern dress, together with his main castmates. There’s a tall and handsome man with broad shoulders standing next to him, making an amicable effort to smile coupled with a peace sign. There isn’t anything out of the ordinary in this photo, nothing that might betray that he and Yibo are together. It’s so simple and pleasant that it could be used for promotional efforts for the drama.

Yibo doesn’t give Xiao Zhan any chance to speak before he’s talking again, words coming like he can’t get them out fast enough.

“He’s nothing to me, I promise, I-” Yibo flings his phone onto the coffee table, then runs a shaky hand through his hair aggravatedly. “We’re only friends. He was helping me out with some- something. That’s all, Zhan-ge. There’s no one else.”

“But the flight- the hotel rooms-” Xiao Zhan’s voice cracks, face crumpling. What he saw in the coffeeshop was obvious enough. He doesn’t even know why he’s giving Yibo the chance to say all this. “I saw you hold his _hand_ , Yibo. The way you smiled at him, you- you were whispering into his ear-”

Yibo shakes his head, and he’s a mix of frenzied and distraught in equal measure.

He runs his thumb over Xiao Zhan’s knuckles, gentle and persistent as he attempts to piece together his thoughts. He looks like he’s trying to calculate something, to figure out exactly what Xiao Zhan saw.

Then-

“Fuck, Zhan-ge-” Yibo makes out, then suddenly he’s laughing.

It’s a laugh that’s ugly and self-flagellating, and entirely derisive as Yibo coughs out a few mutilated chuckles.

Xiao Zhan watches in concern as he pulls himself back together and places his other hand on top of Xiao Zhan’s that’s already cradled in his own. It’s rough and gentle, encasing Xiao Zhan in warmth.

“I’ve been so stupid. I can’t believe I almost lost you over this.”

“No, Yibo-” Xiao Zhan argues automatically, worried at how angry Yibo looks at himself. His eyes are almost bloodshot, his voice reduced to a rasp. “What do you mean?”

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo says, and the corner of his mouth lifts, just a little. “Cao Ran’s dad is a jeweller. I was meeting with him to arrange for a private consultation, to- to talk about a ring.”

 _Wait_.

Xiao Zhan’s brain sparks, and suddenly it feels like the gaping wound in his chest is a little less tender. “You don’t mean- Yibo-”

His tongue is suddenly dry, sticking flat to the roof of his mouth. Words are difficult to form, but somehow Xiao Zhan manages. 

“That’s exactly what I mean, Zhan-ge,” Yibo says, eyes soft and tired and hopeful all at once. “I was going to propose to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are finally looking up in this chapter, i'm sure some of you guessed it already!  
> thank you for all your kind comments and encouragement so far, we're reaching the happy part of this fic!  
> hope you enjoy it after all the pain at the start :) 
> 
> if you like this fic, please feel free to scream at me @lanwuxiann on [tumblr](https://lanwuxiann.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/lanwuxiann). i'm always happy to make a new friend!
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! <3


	6. Chapter 6

“Propose-” Xiao Zhan’s world is spinning, turning over and over like he’s on the world’s fastest rollercoaster, and he’s barely strapped in. “You were- going to propose-”

His stomach is churning, squeezing so tight he can’t breathe past the pain. He doesn’t know what to think, staring dumbly back at Yibo, who’s looking at him with a humourless smile.

“Is it so hard to believe, Zhan-ge? I meant what I said that first time.” The tense rigidity of Yibo’s shoulders seems to have eased somewhat now that the truth is in the open, and he pulls over the blanket he had shifted aside around Xiao Zhan’s shoulders. It carries Yibo’s detergent and some remnants of the cologne that he wears for events, his comforting scent that makes Xiao Zhan’s trembling slow. “I’ve never looked away from you. Not once.”

“But you weren’t calling me back,” Xiao Zhan says, feeling like the past few weeks are blurring into a haze of stupid, stupid misunderstandings. “You- you didn’t message as much as you used to- I thought, I thought I was boring you-”

He still remembers how hard it was to fall asleep knowing that Yibo had refused to pick up his calls. He’d thought he’d lost Yibo’s heart, slipping from his ragged grip no matter how hard he clung on. He’d thought he wasn’t interesting anymore, not worth the time of famous idol Wang Yibo, though all he wanted to do was talk to his boyfriend and ask him about his day.

“Zhan-ge, it wasn’t on purpose,” Yibo replies, his mouth turning down at the edges as he sighs. He looks so angry at himself. “I meant what I said about getting busy. I- I should have made up for it somehow, I know you were at home alone, but I was just so tired. All I could do every night was listen to your voice messages and fall asleep.”

Then he chuckles morosely to himself. “I was taking on a few more endorsements to save up for the ring I really wanted to buy. But I shouldn’t have neglected you for it. I just- I can get so focused on something I forget who I’m doing it for. I forget what’s more important, and of course it’s you. I’m sorry.”

Xiao Zhan’s heart plummets. Everything feels like the shimmering vapor above a lake on a hot summer’s day, obscuring and muddying his comprehension. “You- you were saving up for me?”

“I’m always- everything I do now, is for you and me, Zhan-ge,” Yibo says, as easy as breathing. Somehow Xiao Zhan’s own breath is stuck in his throat as Yibo’s calm gaze meets his. “Everything I do is for our future together.”

“Then the hotel rooms-” Xiao Zhan begins, faltering, and Yibo smiles as he tucks one end of the blanket in at Xiao Zhan’s collarbone, so it doesn’t slip down his back. It’s what Yibo used to do after any large incident or any big fan meetings when Xiao Zhan came home, to relieve his stress and calm him down.

For him to do this now – as if the relationship between them is assured, as if this is a regular talk between lovers and not a confrontation because of a terrible mistake Xiao Zhan has made – causes a lump to rise in Xiao Zhan’s throat.

“I was booking them to try out for our engagement night celebration,” Yibo says, shrugging slightly. He runs his hand down Xiao Zhan’s clothed shoulder and smooths his palms over Xiao Zhan’s forearms in a soothing motion. He huffs out a laugh that’s a little crooked, a little pained, but completely sincere. “A little presumptuous, I know. Some weren’t even that great, though the pricetag is so high.”

He’s touching Xiao Zhan again, comfortable and sure, back like how they used to, in small, careful increments.

Xiao Zhan’s eyes fill with tears at the thought. He never thought he could have this again, and here Yibo is saying that he’s always loved Xiao Zhan, firm and unwavering like a deep-rooted tree. Here Yibo is saying that he loved Xiao Zhan so much he was doing all this planning and thinking, and all Xiao Zhan’s ever done is hate him for it and bend like a weak willow in the slightest breeze.

“He- he was holding your hand in the café,” Xiao Zhan blurts, feeling like he might break at how understanding Yibo is being. Every little worry is fading rapidly in the face of Yibo’s steadiness. Still, Xiao Zhan needs to know everything. He needs to let Yibo know that he hadn’t left him on a whim. That it had been the most difficult thing Xiao Zhan had ever done. “I saw- you smiled at him like-”

“Like what,” Yibo prompts, and Xiao Zhan swallows. His face is surely blotchy and swollen, his eyes bleary and crusty. There’s no reason for Yibo to be looking at him like he’s incandescently happy that Xiao Zhan is looking back.

“Like he was me.” The words come out stuttered and pitiful, and Xiao Zhan’s about to look away when Yibo catches his face with one hand. He cradles Xiao Zhan’s cheek in his large palm, and dips his thumb to swiftly remove the dirt that’s gathered at the corners of Xiao Zhan’s eyes. Xiao Zhan looks up at him, embarrassed, but Yibo simply pulls his hand away to rest it back on Xiao Zhan’s.

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo breathes, and rubs his thumb over Xiao Zhan’s knuckles, smoothing over the wrinkles at his wrist. His eyes are fond, and Xiao Zhan is so, so undeserving. “He was holding my hand to gauge the kind of ring that would fit, and the kind of rings I would like. I was probably smiling like that because I was talking about you. There’s no one that makes me smile like you do. I thought you knew.”

“Oh,” Xiao Zhan says, a little pathetically. “I thought it was because you were in love with him.”

“Not one bit,” Yibo says, and his voice is deep and serious. “Everyone knows I’m head over heels for you, Zhan-ge. That hasn’t changed. These past weeks without you have been the worst of my life.”

He takes a breath, and smiles at Xiao Zhan, his gaze gentle and fond. “It is nice to look at you now and not feel like my heart is breaking.”

Xiao Zhan can’t help it. He lets out a small sob that has Yibo glancing back to his face, testing. When Yibo determines that it’s a sob of happiness, he smiles a little bigger, the light returning to his eyes.

“Then, why did you walk away that night, Yibo?” Xiao Zhan questions, feeling brave enough to intertwine his fingers with Yibo’s. Yibo immediately holds Xiao Zhan’s hand, their palms pressed together so tightly it’s as if Yibo never wants them to part again. “You didn’t even protest, I thought you were admitting to cheating on me-”

“Baobei,” Yibo says, and Xiao Zhan’s chest clenches with happiness. Weeks away from Yibo and his affectionate gaze and loving touches have left Xiao Zhan feeling starved, parched for something he thought he might never have again. To have this back, and so easily, makes Xiao Zhan lean forward into Yibo’s space to rest against his shoulder. “You have to understand. Walking away from you was the most painful thing I have ever done. I felt like I was dying. I- I thought you didn’t want to marry me.”

“Didn’t- Yibo, how could you think-”

“I mean,” Yibo laughs a little brokenly, but he sits up a little straighter so that Xiao Zhan can rest more comfortably against his side and shifts so Xiao Zhan’s head rests perfectly on his shoulder. “I thought you’d figured out I wanted to marry you, and you didn’t want it so much you were breaking up with me. I’m sorry I left. I regretted it the moment I stepped out, but I needed to deal with the fact that my boyfriend wanted me gone.”

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan starts, his eyes turning watery again, but Yibo shakes his head, and brings Xiao Zhan’s trembling hand to his lips. His lips are chapped and dry, but the press of Yibo’s mouth to his knuckles makes Xiao Zhan’s breath hitch.

“So after spending a few nights at Han-ge’s place, I went back to the apartment, but I realised you were gone. I tried to call you, but you changed your phone number.” Yibo’s mouth twists unhappily as he recounts this, and Xiao Zhan aches at the pain in his lowered gaze where he stares at their interlinked hands. “Yeah. That was tough. I was ready to call your manager, show up at your studio, everything. I was beginning to think you really wanted me out of your life.”

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan says, and it’s barely above a cracked whisper. “I’m so sorry.” He leans in and presses a few shaky kisses to Yibo’s cheek, his jaw, and his neck that shudders at Xiao Zhan’s touch.

He doesn’t know what he can do to make it better. It must have been entirely heart-breaking and world ending for Yibo. He probably wondered what he did wrong, or what he didn’t do, and agonised over it just as Xiao Zhan was doing these past weeks.

“But Zhuocheng and Xuan Lu contacted me.” Yibo forges on, after giving Xiao Zhan a brief smile. “They told me that you were safe and about how you were every day. I think they both hate me now because I called and texted them so much about you. I explained what I thought happened to them, but we all agreed that you wanted your space and time to process it. I rented this apartment close to our home just in case you wanted to go back. I- I hung around in the lobby, I waited by the café opposite, I even slept on the bench outside, in case you ever stopped by. But I guess you never did, because I never saw you.”

Yibo takes a deep breath before continuing, and the look in his eyes is a little blank, and a little faraway. “You- you didn’t want to see me, and you were taking active steps to avoid me, so I thought it would be best if I gave you some time. That’s why I decided to only talk to you at the dinner when I thought you might be more receptive to what I had to say. Zhuocheng let me know you were going to be there, so-”

“But I ran away from you,” Xiao Zhan completes, feeling more and more hollow.

He almost wants to retch. He’s the one who put the eyebags under Yibo’s eyes, the cause of his insomnia and the missing smile on his face when he looks at Xiao Zhan. He’s been so entirely, utterly, foolish. Shame runs down his back, hot and searing. It makes him want to hide away from the world, from Yibo, who he’s hurt so unforgivably.

He made Yibo chase after him. He turned away from Yibo, making sure they didn’t meet. He was the one to betray all the promises they’d made.

“I thought I wasn’t enough for you. I thought you’d found someone better for you, someone who deserved you more,” Xiao Zhan cries, every word like a match striking against his throat to light a flame in his chest. “I tried to get over you, but I couldn’t.”

He’s voicing his worst fears, and every cruel thought he’d allowed himself to indulge in and believe when it was the last thing Yibo deserved. He thought that maybe because the world was turning on him that it was inevitable Yibo would too. He’d let himself marinate, submerge, in all his fears and thoughts of betrayal that Yibo betraying him too seemed natural.

He’d let himself forget exactly how much Yibo loved, no, _loves_ him.

He can’t understand why Yibo is still looking at him with love in his eyes when he should be disgusted at Xiao Zhan’s lack of faith in him.

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo cuts in, eyebrows creased together in worry as he dries Xiao Zhan’s tears with more tissues. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ll never forgive myself for making you cry and giving you cause to doubt me. That’s on me.”

“But-but Yibo, I’m so sorry,” Xiao Zhan chokes out, and he can’t help the sobs that wrack his shoulders and punch the breath from his lungs. “How do you not hate me? I thought you were getting over me. I thought you wanted something different. I thought you didn’t love me anymore, I- I accused you of cheating on me, it’s inexcusable-”

His cries are muffled by Yibo’s sweater as Yibo shakes his head, pulling Xiao Zhan against him and into his lap. Yibo cradles Xiao Zhan as Xiao Zhan pushes into his embrace, feeling like he wants to hide from the world.

He can’t believe Yibo is still holding him tight, is still welcoming Xiao Zhan back to him even though Xiao Zhan had pulled away from him. Yibo had to run and chase and reach for Xiao Zhan when Xiao Zhan wasn’t reaching back.

Mortification curls down his spine at the thought that he’d driven Yibo from their home, that he’d assumed Yibo had been cheating on him when all Yibo wanted to do was marry him.

Xiao Zhan had been so quick to give up on them, so fast to try to flee the pain of abandonment that he hadn’t taken a step back to evaluate how his depressed state had caused his trust to flicker out. Had caused him to think Yibo was willingly walking out, when all he’d done was respect that Xiao Zhan suddenly didn’t love him anymore. 

Warm, soothing hands run up and down his back as Xiao Zhan sniffles into Yibo’s shoulder and chest, getting tears and snot everywhere. But Yibo’s still smiling softly down at Xiao Zhan like he’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo begins, and tucks a few wayward strands behind Xiao Zhan’s ear. “I will never hate you. You’re my first and only love. I have never once wanted anything different, or anyone other than you. You’re still everything I want. I never once thought of letting you go.”

His expression hardens as he places a kiss on Xiao Zhan’s forehead, brushing his hand through Xiao Zhan’s fringe as he does so. “I knew you were having a hard time, and I also didn’t stop to think about how what I was doing could hurt you. I shouldn’t have lied to you, at all.”

“But- you know I wouldn’t have stopped coming back to you, right? Not unless you told me you really wanted me gone. I would have kept chasing you.” He chuckles a little, cupping his hand at the back of Xiao Zhan’s neck as he meets his eyes. “I don’t think I know how to not love you. Even when we’re old and grey and wrinkly, we’ll still be together. We’ll get past this and learn from it, okay? Will you forgive me?”

“No, please, it’s me- I’ve been so silly, Yibo, I’ve been such a fool,” Xiao Zhan breathes, his eyes growing mistier as Yibo holds him tighter, a look of patience and unconditional love painting his tired and happy features. He reaches up and cups his palms around Yibo’s face. “Forgive me, Yibo, please.”

Xiao Zhan can’t believe he thought that Yibo was happy when he saw him in the ballroom that night. That had to be a façade, a smile veiled by a veneer of black. It was forced, passive enough to look like Yibo was happy, like Yibo was okay.

Right now, in sweats and a soft sweater, with a face clean of makeup, the genuine happiness Yibo’s wearing on his face radiates outwards, enveloping Xiao Zhan in its tenderness.

“Always,” Yibo says, and it’s as simple as that. It’s as if forgiving Xiao Zhan is the easiest thing he’s ever done. “Always, Zhan-ge.”

Xiao Zhan’s almost in a state of disbelief, a laugh bubbling out of his mouth.

“Yibo, I love you so much,” Xiao Zhan’s heart rises in his chest, swelling with joy. It feels like his world has been righted again, his tilted axis shifted back into place. He can finally breathe after holding his breath for so long. “I love you.”

Yibo has always loved him. He has never looked at Xiao Zhan and thought he might want more. He is enough for Yibo. Just like how Yibo is the best love he has ever had.

They will always keep coming back to each other.

“I love you too,” Yibo says, and his smile turns a little wobbly and uncertain. “So, I know it’s a little fast, and it’s really not how I wanted this to go – I promise I’ll take you out to a fancier dinner soon, but-” He reaches into his right pocket and gets off the couch to get on one knee on the carpet next to the couch as Xiao Zhan stares, frozen.

It’s almost like Yibo’s moving in slow motion as he pulls out a velvet red ring box, and cracks it open to show Xiao Zhan a beautiful silver band inlaid with diamonds. It’s a little understated but it shines so perfectly, light refracting off the jewels and reflecting in Yibo’s eyes. They glow as he looks up at Xiao Zhan. It’s exactly what Xiao Zhan hoped that he might wear on his finger one day, with a matching one on Yibo’s own.

His fingers are shaking as he holds it up towards Xiao Zhan, and his brows draw together as he begins to speak. Xiao Zhan’s sure he memorised these lines, from how intent and resolute he looks.

“Xiao Zhan, it’s always been you, I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” Yibo says thickly, reaching for and grasping Xiao Zhan’s hand with his free hand. Their fingers intertwine and Xiao Zhan holds on tight as he feels tears brimming in his eyes yet again. He can’t help it, seeing how determined Yibo looks. “You make me better in every way. I want to grow with you and learn with you and be by your side through the good and the bad. I want to be your partner through everything. I want to share in all your burdens. We’ll carry them together. There’s no need to be scared when we have each other. You’re it for me.”

To have Yibo’s focus solely on him again makes him feel exposed, but there’s no need to worry because he’s seen every part of Xiao Zhan and loves him still.

His grumpiness in the mornings, his propensity for clamming up and hiding all his feelings away, how he feels like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and he has to do everyone proud – Yibo sees this, sees him, and loves him for it. Hearing these precious words from Yibo’s mouth, from the man he loves, makes Xiao Zhan’s heart thud harder in his chest. He can’t stop smiling, tears of joy running down his cheeks.

“So I want to be with you forever. Let’s spend the rest of our lives together, okay, baobei?” Yibo asks, a tender smile on his face as he lets go of Xiao Zhan’s hand to wipe at his tears. Xiao Zhan’s nearly hiccupping with joy now, a silly smile on his face that he can’t wipe off. It feels like he’s going to burst with happiness. “Will you marry me?”

“Of course, of course I’ll marry you, Yibo,” Xiao Zhan says, and he’s a little surprised at how strong and convicted his voice sounds past the tears streaming down his face. Yibo’s face opens up at his words, like a flower to the sun. He’s radiant in the afternoon light from the window, and with his nervousness fading he’s so beautiful and all, all Xiao Zhan’s. “I love you so much, I want to be with you forever.”

There’s a bit of a shaky moment as Yibo stands, pulls the ring from the box, and attempts to slide it on Xiao Zhan’s finger, which they giggle over.

“I’ll have to get one for you too, zhangfu,” Xiao Zhan says, and Yibo pulls Xiao Zhan’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles, his wrist, then up his arm as Xiao Zhan swats at him. Xiao Zhan’s face hurts from smiling back at Yibo, who looks a little stunned every time he meets Xiao Zhan’s eyes.

Xiao Zhan’s giggles fade as Yibo slowly moves towards him where he’s seated on the couch. There’s still a hesitant question in his eyes, and Xiao Zhan hates that he put it there.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan breathes, and Yibo’s eyes snap to his. His body feels like it’s burning, like he has a fever. “Please touch me.”

“Are you sure, Zhan-ge?” Yibo looks uncertain, even a little cautious as his hands hover near to Xiao Zhan but don’t touch. “We don’t have to do anything. We can wait till you’re ready-”

“I’m ready,” Xiao Zhan says, and it feels like he’s free. “I want you, Yibo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! omg we are finally here, the second last chapter! 🤗  
> i am so blown away and grateful for all the support and love you have given this fic, thank you for sticking with it to the end!  
> the next chapter will be up sooner, and it's where we finally earn our "e" rating haha  
> i tried my best to write the reconciliation and i hope you all like it ❤ please let me know your thoughts!
> 
> if you like this fic, please feel free to scream at me @lanwuxiann on [tumblr](https://lanwuxiann.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/lanwuxiann). i'm always happy to make a new friend!
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you wish to skip the sex scene, please start reading at "there’s a faint line..."

Yibo’s eyes widen, and that’s all the warning he gets before Yibo is bearing down on him on the couch, his lips meeting Xiao Zhan’s in a furious clash.

It’s searing hot and wet and Xiao Zhan’s head immediately fogs over as Yibo’s hands slide fervently over his shoulders, down his arms, over the sides of his body as if he can’t decide what he wants to touch first. His tongue slides against Xiao Zhan’s, and at once it’s like being plunged back into a familiar, aching fire as Xiao Zhan struggles to breathe and keep up with how much Yibo wants him.

Yibo’s lips are rough and demanding as they move and pull against Xiao Zhan’s own and all Xiao Zhan can think between heated breaths is that they’ll surely look bruised tomorrow. It’s as if Yibo’s trying to reclaim these past weeks of agony by coaxing wanton, embarrassing noises from Xiao Zhan’s chest. His heartbeat is in his ears as Yibo continues to manoeuvre him easily against the couch, kissing into his mouth slickly as Yibo pulls him apart.

Xiao Zhan can’t help but whimper against Yibo’s mouth as Yibo’s hands reach down to unbutton his jeans, and then reach to ruck up Xiao Zhan’s shirt and expose his chest to the cold air.

“Fuck, Yibo-” Xiao Zhan breathes as Yibo lowers his head to suck at Xiao Zhan’s hardening nipples. He’s completely overwhelmed with Yibo all over him, his large hand pushing three fingers into Xiao Zhan’s mouth to choke on as Yibo tugs and bites at Xiao Zhan’s nipples like he’s been starving for them. The sounds he’s making against Xiao Zhan’s chest are completely indecent, hot and hungry rasps of his wet tongue that pull heat to Xiao Zhan’s belly. He’s already so hard that he’s pressed painfully against the front of his unzipped jeans, his erection causing the zipper to pull and strain.

He can barely think as he does what he’s supposed to, mouthing at and taking Yibo’s fingers into his throat as he trembles from the stimulation. Tears well up in his eyes when he gags a little on Yibo’s fingers, and Xiao Zhan keens from the feeling of too much and too fast. When Yibo curls his fingers away from his tongue, Xiao Zhan chases them and sucks stubbornly. Xiao Zhan wants Yibo to take him in all the ways he wants, to devour him fully like he deserves.

Then Yibo pulls off his chest and drops to his knees in between Xiao Zhan’s legs, spreading them wide as he nudges his way towards Xiao Zhan’s cock, eyeing the head peeking out from his waistband. The look of Yibo kneeling as he bites and tugs down Xiao Zhan’s zipper with his teeth and hooded, seductive eyes almost has Xiao Zhan coming in his tight boxers.

Xiao Zhan yelps as Yibo pulls his pants off his legs in a swift motion, leaving him in just his underwear and a loose shirt that exposes the lean line of his chest and his swollen nipples.

The thought of what he must look like, debauched and ready for Yibo to fuck has him running his hands through Yibo’s hair and pulling his knees further apart.

“Zhan-ge, fuck, you don’t even know what you look like right now,” Yibo says, almost prayerfully, as he runs his hands over Xiao Zhan’s thighs to play with the outline of his dick in his boxers. Xiao Zhan jerks and cries out as Yibo pulls his boxers off his cock. It springs up a little too eagerly, an angry, flushed pink around the head and already leaking copious amounts of precome.

There’s no time for Xiao Zhan to feel like hiding because Yibo’s already reaching for his cock, nuzzling his face against Xiao Zhan’s heavy balls and rubbing the head of his dick against his cheek. He holds Xiao Zhan’s gaze as he presses soft, gentle kisses along the shaft, and Xiao Zhan trembles from the tenderness in his eyes.

Yibo takes his time alternating between moving Xiao Zhan’s dick against his face and taking just the head of Xiao Zhan’s cock into his mouth, tonguing around and pressing his tongue into the slit. Trails of precome run down Yibo’s face and drip off his chin, and Xiao Zhan tries to wipe it off but all Yibo does is pull Xiao Zhan’s dick into his mouth and swallow him down as far as he can go.

“Yibo, oh my god-” Xiao Zhan cries out as he’s surrounded by a tight, wet heat, Yibo’s lithe tongue sliding over the head of his cock. He’s sobbing tears at the sight of Yibo sucking his cock like he’s been given a precious gift, his lips stretched wide as he takes Xiao Zhan’s cock to the root, pressing his face into the dark thatch of hair between Xiao Zhan’s legs.

Yibo bobs up and down on Xiao Zhan’s cock with half-lidded eyes that burn and a precome-slick face. He’s using all his knowledge of how Xiao Zhan likes it to get him off expertly, his hands gripping onto Xiao Zhan’s thighs so hard he’s sure there’ll be marks tomorrow.

Xiao Zhan tries to hold off his orgasm, tapping on Yibo’s shoulder frantically to tell Yibo that he’s close, but Yibo holds fast to his hips and swallows him down harder. There’s barely any warning before he’s coming, hot and heavy down Yibo’s tight throat, and Yibo works him through it, taking Xiao Zhan’s come and sucking hard on his cock like he can’t get enough of it.

Xiao Zhan’s legs spasm weakly as Yibo pulls off with a pop and a slight cough. A thick line of come connects his reddened lips to the head of Xiao Zhan’s cock.

Xiao Zhan’s so dazed with his sudden orgasm and the sight of Yibo’s open mouth with his come, white on the flat of his tongue, that he barely registers it when Yibo pulls him into his arms.

“What- Yibo-” is all Xiao Zhan can make out as he’s carried down a hallway, Yibo kicking the door open to a pristine bedroom with a large, king sized bed. Xiao Zhan’s eyes are already teary, but the look of untouched sheets as he’s being laid on them like he’s precious causes tears to run down his cheeks.

Yibo has been all alone in this house, patiently waiting for Xiao Zhan to return to him, and he’s been sleeping on the couch because he couldn’t sleep in an empty bed.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan begins, watery and light-headed. “I’m so sorry-”

“Zhan-ge, don’t think about that right now,” Yibo kisses the top of his head tenderly, his hand stroking Xiao Zhan’s jaw where it’s cupping his neck. “Let me take care of you.”

Xiao Zhan can only nod, breathless as Yibo pulls his stained shirt from his body and pulls off his boxers, throwing the clothes by the bed. Then he’s treated to the mouth-watering sight of Yibo stripping off his sweater, pants, and underwear in swift motions to reveal his toned body and shifting muscles as he steps onto the bed and crawls towards Xiao Zhan.

Xiao Zhan has to bite at his lip to avoid crying out as Yibo grasps the undersides of his knees and pulls Xiao Zhan down the bed towards him, in a show of strength and want.

Yibo’s big cock is thick and heavy between his legs, but he ignores it to run his palms along Xiao Zhan’s supple thighs and thick ass, pushing his thighs apart to expose Xiao Zhan to his intent gaze.

Xiao Zhan’s dick, which had softened, starts to grow hard again at the fiery look in Yibo’s eyes, hardening against his lower belly. Yibo looks like he doesn’t know where to begin, pressing kisses to Xiao Zhan’s hips and the insides of his knees.

“I’ve missed this so much,” Xiao Zhan chokes out, a little strangled, but he needs Yibo to know that Xiao Zhan has been thinking of him every day. In every moment, he has always carried Yibo with him. “I love you.”

Yibo groans and ducks down to nose at the area behind Xiao Zhan’s balls, and then runs his tongue reverently against Xiao Zhan’s hole.

“Mm, Yibo-” Xiao Zhan’s legs start to close automatically at the feeling of Yibo’s warm breath against his wet hole, but Yibo just shoves his face between Xiao Zhan’s cheeks and begins to eat him out in earnest. Xiao Zhan can hardly think, shuddering and crying out as Yibo pushes his tongue past the rim relentlessly, thrusting it in and out as he breathes Xiao Zhan in.

Every time Yibo’s tongue withdraws Xiao Zhan can feel his hole clenching, flexing to keep Yibo’s tongue inside as he pushes back into Yibo’s face. It feels like he’s being engulfed by Yibo, being held down and made to take it. Even when Xiao Zhan’s hole tightens, Yibo continues to lick at Xiao Zhan, running his tongue up and down Xiao Zhan’s cleft till it’s wet.

When Yibo leans back, Xiao Zhan thinks he’s finished but Yibo merely presses his lips to Xiao Zhan’s hole, kisses it reverently, then sucks on it like Xiao Zhan’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He draws feeble, overstimulated cries from Xiao Zhan as Xiao Zhan’s thighs tremble uncontrollably and his eyes roll back from the pleasure.

Only after Xiao Zhan tenses and pushes at his shoulders does Yibo relent, pulling back with slick all over his face, droplets in his eyelashes.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan gasps, his chest heaving. His hole is overstimulated and raw from Yibo’s ministrations, and he can see the satisfaction in Yibo’s eyes when he sees that it’s puffy and pink and gaping a little. “I don’t want to come without you in me, please-”

“Fuck,” Yibo groans, and stumbles off the bed to open the closet, his dick swinging between his legs. When he returns, he’s holding a bottle of lube that he quickly uncaps and pours over his fingers. Yibo rubs them together to warm it up, and then he’s gently pressing into Xiao Zhan, using his other hand to comfortingly stroke up and down Xiao Zhan’s waist.

Xiao Zhan shifts a little on the bed, trying to adjust to the stretch after all those weeks without Yibo. Yibo’s fingers are so long, and there’s an intense focus in his eyes as he rotates his wrist, pushing further into Xiao Zhan. When the pads of his fingers first rub against Xiao Zhan’s prostate, Xiao Zhan almost keens off the bed, shaking as little lightning bolts run through his limbs.

“There you are,” Yibo murmurs, and leans down to give Xiao Zhan a short, sloppy kiss as he adds another finger to press relentlessly at Xiao Zhan’s prostate. It’s almost like he likes the way Xiao Zhan is crying weakly, likes how teasing Xiao Zhan’s prostate is something he’s has the right to do.

Xiao Zhan wants to feel full on Yibo’s fingers for the rest of his life. 

“Yibo, please,” Xiao Zhan whimpers out, when Yibo bites at his lower lip roughly. His whole body is trembling with holding himself back. The room is spinning with how much he needs it. “I can’t, I want-”

Yibo reaches down, and runs the head of his cock against Xiao Zhan’s hole before he pushes in in one swift motion. Both of them groan as he shifts to push in till his hips meet with Xiao Zhan’s, and his balls slap against Xiao Zhan’s ass. Xiao Zhan’s gasping as his hands flex on Yibo’s chest, shaking at how thick Yibo is inside of him.

There’s a tender look on Yibo’s face as he pulls at Xiao Zhan’s calves one by one to sling them over his shoulders, bending Xiao Zhan almost in half as he spears Xiao Zhan on his large cock. It’s hard for Xiao Zhan to breathe from how full he’s feeling – it almost feels like he can feel Yibo in his stomach, the imprint of Yibo’s cock against the flatness of his belly.

Then Yibo starts to move, pounding Xiao Zhan into the bed in earnest and all Xiao Zhan can do is lie back and take it. Xiao Zhan moves up the bed every time Yibo plunges back into him with each forceful thrust, their cries and pants of desperation filling the room as Yibo bears Xiao Zhan down even harder into the bed.

Xiao Zhan can feel the ridges of Yibo’s cock forcing apart his walls in his throat. Everything is so hot and so wet, and Xiao Zhan is gasping out tears as Yibo takes and takes and kisses into Xiao Zhan’s mouth like he wants to eat Xiao Zhan up.

“Yibo- Yibo, I love- I love you-” Xiao Zhan chokes out, feeling his tears roll down his cheeks as Yibo drives into him relentlessly. He doesn’t know why, but the overwhelming urge to let Yibo know makes him feel like there’s a boulder sitting on his chest and this is the only way to get relief.

“I know, I know, baobei,” Yibo whispers next to his ear, accompanied by harsh, guttural breaths as he fucks into Xiao Zhan. It’s almost as if he wants to imprint himself into Xiao Zhan’s skin, to cover Xiao Zhan with his scent, and never let him leave their bed again.

Xiao Zhan lets himself close his eyes for a bit, to soak in Yibo’s thrusts, how his arms hold him so tight like he’s scared Xiao Zhan will be nothing but an illusion, a miasmic dream that will fade away.

“Pretty,” Yibo says, smoothing one hand against Xiao Zhan’s cheek to dry his tears as he pauses deep inside to grind hard against Xiao Zhan’s hole and press hard down on his prostate. Xiao Zhan sees stars as he clenches down on Yibo, causing Yibo to moan against Xiao Zhan’s lips. Xiao Zhan eagerly opens his mouth to take Yibo’s tongue in and suck on it.

The heat in his belly grows, and he’s so close. He can’t help but cry out every time Yibo drives into him, pulling out and pushing back in with animalistic fervour. Yibo must be getting close too, with the increasingly messy way he’s kissing Xiao Zhan, mouthing at his neck and his shoulder as his arms bracket Xiao Zhan’s head on the bed, his body caging Xiao Zhan in.

Xiao Zhan sobs into Yibo’s mouth when he peaks, shaking in Yibo’s possessive hold. He comes so hard between them he paints their chests with white, a few drops landing on the underside of Yibo’s jaw.

Yibo growls, snaps his hips into Xiao Zhan once, twice, and fucks deep into him through his orgasm, pushing his come deeper into Xiao Zhan with every drive of his cock. Xiao Zhan’s vision almost whites out, and he’s in and out of consciousness as Yibo pushes in and out of him slowly with sloppy, messy slaps, kissing his shoulder while caressing him softly.

They come down from their climaxes gradually, and Xiao Zhan gives a shy laugh as Yibo pulls out slowly with a loud squelch. Yibo’s come runs down his thigh and pools below him on the sheets, and Xiao Zhan moves obligingly as Yibo spreads a blanket under him so he can lie more comfortably.

Yibo smiles down at him affectionately, kissing Xiao Zhan on the forehead before he slowly pulls himself off the bed and shakily pads towards the ensuite. There’s sounds of rummaging and the tap, and then Yibo comes back with a warm cloth that he uses to sponge Xiao Zhan down.

Xiao Zhan opens his legs to give Yibo greater access, and swats at him a little when Yibo’s fingers play at his thighs mischievously. Yibo tosses the cloth on the floor and joins him in bed, stretching himself out next to Xiao Zhan as he rests his head on a hand and looks down at him.

Yibo’s still heaving from the stimulation, his eyelashes thick and dusky against his cheek. There’s a faint line of wetness under his eyes, and Xiao Zhan swallows as he slides a palm against Yibo’s cheek.

“What are you thinking about?” Xiao Zhan asks, when all Yibo does is trace a few fingers down his temple and brush his hair back in return. Yibo’s eyes are dark, his gaze heavy on Xiao Zhan’s face like he’s trying to memorise him.

“I’m thinking that I came so close to losing you,” Yibo breathes, and Xiao Zhan moves forward to rest his head on Yibo’s chest. Lying still with his ear to Yibo’s skin, Xiao Zhan can hear Yibo’s hurried heartbeat. His own heart feels like it does a little stutter at that, and he holds Yibo tighter.

“Wo jia xiansheng, you will never lose me,” Xiao Zhan says, sure and true as he tilts his head back to press kisses to Yibo’s cheek. Yibo’s mouth drops open as he takes in Xiao Zhan’s words, meeting his eyes with a reverence and happiness that makes him glow from the inside out.

Yibo mouths the words xiansheng over again slowly, his arm slipping around Xiao Zhan’s waist. He seems a little choked up, the hand around Xiao Zhan’s waist tightening.

Shy, Xiao Zhan runs his tongue along Yibo’s jaw swiftly, laughing when Yibo’s nose wrinkles at the sloppiness of the action. Xiao Zhan holds his left hand up to wave his engagement ring gleefully in front of Yibo’s eyeline. “I am never going to get over you, Wang Yibo.”

“Good,” Yibo says, leaning down to press his lips against Xiao Zhan’s. It’s addictive, almost like when they first started dating and they couldn’t get their hands off each other.

And now they’re going to get married. Xiao Zhan doesn’t know what to do with himself, with this bubbling happiness inside his chest.

Then Yibo pauses, dropping a palm over his eyes.

“Fuck,” Yibo says, his voice growing small with realisation. “Does your mum- your dad- do they hate me now? You told them about us, right?”

“…No?” Xiao Zhan drags out, wincing as Yibo lets out another groan. “I mean, I guess they think you broke my heart, but- but I’ll tell them it was my mistake too.”

“I’ll buy them all the gift baskets. All the cordyceps and bird’s nest they could ever want,” Yibo declares firmly, tugging Xiao Zhan closer to his side with wandering, teasing hands that make Xiao Zhan swat at him, giggling. Yibo responds by nosing at his neck, laying gentle bites and kisses on it that will surely bruise.

Xiao Zhan’s heart feels so light, like he could walk on air. Somehow, he’d pushed himself to almost forget what it felt like to be loved by Yibo. He promises himself he’ll never come that close again.

“What do you want for dinner?” Xiao Zhan offers, cradled in Yibo’s warm embrace, feeling like the tight enclosure formed by his muscular arms was made for Xiao Zhan to lie in.

Slowly, with each combined, intertwined breath they take, Yibo’s chest rising and falling in tandem with his, everything feels like it’s settling into place. Everything seems right with the world with Yibo next to him.

“Anything you want, I’ll order in,” Yibo says, sounding distracted as he presses his mouth to the back of Xiao Zhan’s neck. The slight roughness of his lips makes Xiao Zhan shiver. “But maybe you could make some jellies?” His voice is small, almost careful. “I missed your jellies a lot. I had so many sore throats without you.”

“Of course.” Xiao Zhan twists in Yibo’s hold to say the words against his lips, breathing Yibo in. “Of course, Yibo. Anything for you.”

He can’t think of a better future for himself than making jelly for Yibo when his throat grows scratchy, having his eyes light up when Xiao Zhan walks out of the kitchen with a tray in his hands.

He can’t think of anything better than how Yibo’s looking at him again, like he can’t believe how lucky he is. Xiao Zhan is looking back, in the exact same way.

“Shall we move back to our house tomorrow?” Yibo blurts, like he’s been storing the words in his chest for so long they’ve burst from his mouth. He looks sheepish in his enthusiasm, and a little shy and worried at what Xiao Zhan might say.

“We’re never leaving again,” Xiao Zhan nods, blinking back the fresh tears that come to his eyes. Yibo still thinks of their apartment as his home. He’s never stopped thinking it, and he wants to go back with Xiao Zhan.

Xiao Zhan is Yibo’s home, and Yibo is his.

“Never,” Yibo agrees, and rolls over to cage Xiao Zhan between his arms, hovering above Xiao Zhan who blinks up at him. His gaze keeps darting between Xiao Zhan’s eyes and lips, till Xiao Zhan gives his hip a playful squeeze. “Unless- unless the flat gets too small.”

“Small for what?” Xiao Zhan asks, his eyes widening with realisation at Yibo’s hesitance. Surely Yibo couldn’t mean-

“For our kids of course,” Yibo says, as nonchalantly as he might reading out a simple fact. “When we have more than one, it’ll start getting a little crowded.”

But his eyes hold onto Xiao Zhan’s, and something flickers behind them as he waits for Xiao Zhan’s reaction.

All Xiao Zhan does is reach up and bring Yibo’s face down for another kiss, soft and slow. Xiao Zhan feels like his heart might burst.

Yibo grins as he reaches down to fit his hands around Xiao Zhan’s waist, drawing him close.

“Look, Zhan-ge,” he says, and he smiles against Xiao Zhan’s mouth. “I’m holding my whole world in my hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've reached the end, i really want to thank you for all your love and support for this story!  
> it's really bittersweet to let this story go, because i've met such wonderful people and commentors through it, but i'm excited for more bjyx fics that are to come!  
> hope to see you all in the next fic! ❤❤
> 
> if you like this fic, please feel free to scream at me @lanwuxiann on [tumblr](https://lanwuxiann.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/lanwuxiann). i'm always happy to make a new friend!
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! <3


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